Dragons & Lotuses
by renagrrl
Summary: Modern AU: Sokka is an undercover cop for the L.A.P.D., trying his best to infiltrate the notorious White Lotus Society yakuza. While his plans have always been to take the yakuza down, will he eventually take his artificial oaths of loyalty to heart?
1. Prologue

**Dragons & Lotuses**

Description: Sokka is an undercover cop for the L.A.P.D., trying his best to break into the most notorious yakuza in the city—the White Lotus Society. While his plans have always been to take the yakuza down, will he eventually take his artificial oaths of loyalty to heart?

Rating: This story is rated T, but may move to M for future mature situations, sex, violence, and/or language.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Avatar: The Last Airbender" or anything associated with it. This story is for amusement purposes only—so I hope you're amused!

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_**Prologue**_

I've been called a mobster, a wise guy, a gangster, and, soon enough, kobun. But that's what I want them to believe; it's what they _have to_ believe. If, for one moment, they question it, my life would be forfeit. They have to believe that I'm one of them, that I'll do anything to stay loyal to my new brothers and my soon-to-be oyabuns.

That's because, while I'll soon be a member of Los Angeles' most notorious and successful yakuza gang—the White Lotus Society—I'm also a member of the Los Angeles Police Department's organized crime division. I've been working undercover for the past ten months, risking my life so that we—the good guys—can take them—the bad guys—down. While the yakuza members might initially seem like real stand-up guys—hell, the White Lotus Society's boss is easily one of the nicest gangsters I've met since I started working in the division—don't believe it for a second. They smuggle guns and illegal immigrants, traffic in prostitution, and run gambling parlors all over the City of Angels. But these guys, they're no angels, that's for damn sure.

You see, twenty years ago, L.A. was home to your regular, everyday street gangs—you know, the Crips, the Bloods, the 18th Street gang, the Florencia 13, and the MS-13. Just Black guys and Latinos trying to make their way up in this crazy city, committing mostly low-level crime and the occasional drive-by. But then, the Asians started moving in—the Chinese triads and tongs, then came the Japanese yakuza. Of course, Koreans and Vietnamese joined in on all the criminal activity, too, once they made it stateside. Pretty soon, all the gangs in town started jockeying for power, realizing that there was too much competition in town, even for the country's second largest city.

Even worse, all the Asians work together. They own legitimate businesses and do their best to stay underground. Whereas the yakuza are in-your-face and public in Japan, they're just as secretive when it comes to their operations in the U.S. So, you can imagine the hell of a time I've had trying to infiltrate the White Lotus Society and get enough on their good side to become a member. But after ten months of working my way up from the bottom, not to mention having someone on the inside personally vouch for me, I'm finally being taken in as a brother, and as a kobun to my soon-to-be oyabun, Arnook.

Sure, I had to do some things that I wouldn't do normally—robbery, extortion, cash runner, etc. Things that would anger my parents if they were still around and make my Gran-Gran lay into me like nobody's business. And let's not even get started on what my little sister would have to say—calling her opinionated is an understatement…But it's been pretty low-grade everyday thug work. And it's not like I've had to shoot someone, but that's not likely to last long.

Soon enough, I'll be asked to forget my old family—not too much of a task when you're pretty much an orphan—and take my oath of loyalty to L.A.'s most notorious group of Japanese mobsters and its leader, the infamous Dragon of the West, Iroh Sozin.

My name is Sokka Bulanadi and this is my story…

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**Some definitions:**

**Oyabun**: literally "boss, chief, head, or supervisor." The oyabun serves as the head of the yakuza, and is a father figure to all members of his yakuza. Oyabun/kobun relationships can also exist between lower-ranking members and the men below them in rank.

**Kobun**: literally "follower." All members of the yakuza are seen as sons to the oyabun and are elder and younger brothers to one another.

**Crips**: a Black Los Angeles-based street gang; their color affiliation is blue.

**Bloods**: a Black Los Angeles-based street gang; their color affiliation is red.

**18****th**** Street**: a Mexican-American/Chicano Los Angeles-based street gang.

**Florencia 13**: a Hispanic Los Angeles-based street gang and is affiliated with the Mexican Mafia. They also feud with Asian gangs.

**MS-13**: a Los Angeles-based street gang comprised mostly of men of Central American descent, the 'MS' stands for "Mara Salvatrucha." "Mara" stands for "army ant" and "Salvatrucha" is Spanish slang for Salvadorean.

**Bulanadi**: is a traditional Filipino last name which means "sister moon" in Ilocano, one of the many dialects of the Philippines.

**Author's Note: **

This story is inspired by Quentin Tarantino's many awesome movies—in some chapters, you'll probably notice moments inspired by scenes from one or more of his films. If you're not familiar with Tarantino, I suggest watching "Reservoir Dogs," "Pulp Fiction"(my favorite movie of all-time), and/or "Kill Bill Vol. 1 and Vol. 2."

This is my second "Avatar: The Last Airbender" fanfic; both are modern AUs, or stories based in "alternate universes." However, this story is a steep departure from my first fanfic, "College Daze."

Also, please note that only the prologue and epilogue will appear in the first person; otherwise, the story will be narrated from the third-person omniscient point of view. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy the rest of this story!


	2. Chapter 1: Initiation

**Dragons and Lotuses**

Description: Sokka is an undercover cop for the L.A.P.D., trying his best to infiltrate the notorious White Lotus Society yakuza. While his plans have always been to take the yakuza down, will he eventually take his artificial oaths of loyalty to heart?

Rating: This story is rated T, but may move to M for future mature situations, sex, violence, and/or language.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Avatar: The Last Airbender" or anything associated with it. This story is for amusement purposes only—so I hope you're amused!

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**Chapter 1: Initiation**

"_We're gonna be like three little Fonzies here."_  
- Jules in _Pulp Fiction_

It was finally time—time for him to commit himself to something bigger than himself, to selflessly promise his loyalty to his new family, and to share in a ceremony that had so many more implications than the simple act of drinking sake. As they drove the nearly deserted streets of downtown Los Angeles, Sokka could feel his palms sweat as he nervously anticipated his initiation into the White Lotus Society yakuza.

Sitting in the cushioned leather seat of the silver Lexus sedan, he tried his best to take deep breaths and calm himself. Not only was he being welcomed into the family, his future elder brother, or niisan, was the boss' own nephew by blood—Zuko Sozin. He couldn't have imagined being in such a precarious situation when he was first asked to go undercover and infiltrate the White Lotus Society. In fact, it only seemed like yesterday when the L.A.P.D.'s organized crime department's head, Liutenant Jeong-Jeong, asked Sokka to take the undercover assignment. As the dark streets stretched lazily before him, his mind went back to that day more than a year ago when his life as he knew it changed forever.

_Sokka had been taking pen to paper for the past 30 minutes, completing some official forms that needed to be filled out. Officer Chey had silently approached Sokka's cubical and cautiously knocked on the cheap metal framing the semi-permanent gray walls, attempting to get Sokka's attention. Pulling his eyes away from his paperwork, Sokka turned his gaze to his fellow officer._

"_What's up, Chey?"_

"_Well, the, uh, Liutenant wants to see you. Said you should head into his office ASAP," Chey replied, his eyes darting back-and-forth suspiciously._

_Shrugging his shoulders, Sokka went back to his paperwork, "I ain't got time for that right now—besides, what's that old guy gonna yell at me for now?"_

"_I don't think it has anything to do with something like that, Sokka. He said it was important—real important—and that if you said you were busy, he asked that I threaten to dock your pay for the week. Said something about how many 'damn donuts' you eat out of the break room everyday…"_

_Not wanting to lose any hard-earned cash, Bulanadi acquiesced and pushed himself away from his desk. "Fine, fine. I'm convinced I should get my butt in his office." Glancing over his shoulder, he absented-mindedly expressed, "Thanks, Chey."_

_After all, the lieutenant wasn't the type to call someone in for a nice chat—he was all business, only calling officers in when they needed to be told they were an idiot for making some rookie mistake or when it was time to reassign them to another beat or department. _

_Unfortunately, Sokka had no idea why the lieutenant would want to speak with him of all people; for the past year, he'd simply done his job and hoped to stay under the radar. That's how he had survived a lot of situations in his life—keep your nose down and just blend into the scenery, he always thought to himself. He had learned a lot about human nature just by observing people; oftentimes, it was easier learning things by paying quiet witness to those around oneself than to ask questions outright._

_Knocking on his superior's door, Officer Bulanadi waited for his commanding officer's grunt of approval to enter—Lt. Jeong-Jeong was always too busy to even to utter "come in" to people. Either that or he just detested being interrupted in any way, shape, or form. _

_Now, to the casual observer, Jeong-Jeong's office was like any other lieutenant's in the L.A. police department. A large and imposing dark wood desk stood front and center of the dark, navy blue carpet, while various commendations and photos lined the walls. On the expansive bookcase to the left of the desk were several large legal tomes, along with several binders describing the functions and operations of the organized crime unit and the L.A.P.D._

_But, for those whom Jeong-Jeong hoped to intimidate, there were little details sprinkled throughout the room. Photos of him with not only past mayors of Los Angeles, but with former California governors and future U.S. presidents, sat on his desk where others would leave family photos. Each picture stood sentinel, staring down whichever poor soul was asked to sit across from them. Medals and awards lined the empty spaces of his bookcase, making it look like some massive three-dimensional collage, all speaking to the superior police work of Liutenant Jeong-Jeong during his 30 or so years with the force. _

_All of the minute differences pointed to one obvious conclusion—Jeong-Jeong was your superior; he was better than you, and he knew it. For the man to hand out any compliment was the greatest honor anyone who worked under him could hope for. He was a serious man, but he seldom bestowed praise and expected only the best from those he worked with—anything less would not be tolerated and, oftentimes, would result in a transfer to a less prestigious department, along with a demotion and a pay cut. Sokka couldn't help but wonder for a moment if his donut bill had truly racked up enough of a debt to warrant a slap on the wrist…_

_Cautiously stepping inside, Sokka made his way through the entrance to Jeong-Jeong's immaculate office. The older white-haired man sat at his desk, his slightly scruffy beard and long, thin mustache being thoughtfully twisted by his fingertips as he gazed out the window behind his desk. Turning to the young man before him, he gave a simple order: "Close the door, Bulanadi; this is for your ears only."_

_Complying with the lieutenant's request, Sokka quickly took his seat after shutting the door. "What's up lieutenant?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible, chin in hand, trying his best to hide his anxiousness at being called in. Unfortunately, his nervously tapping foot belied his attempts at calmness._

_The unpleasant thought that he had somehow displeased his supervisor and was about to be transferred swirled in his head as he waited for his boss to address him. For a moment, a series of bad possibilities flashed through his mind—being transferred back down to parking enforcement, being fired and forced to become mall security, or working code enforcement in some ghetto neighborhood for the city. As one might have guessed, the images conjured up by Sokka's vivid imagination caused a somewhat tortured-looking grimace to cross his face._

_Furrowing his brow, the older man looked him up and down, as if appraising his appearance for the first time. "You've been with our department for what, a year now, right, Bulanadi?"_

"_That's correct, sir," Sokka quickly replied, now conspicuously aware of the attention being paid to him by his superior. In an attempt to focus his attention on the conversation, he clasped his hands together and rested them calmly in his lap. _

"_And in that time, what have you been doing?"_

_Surprised at the question, he replied candidly, yet carefully, "Uh, mostly administrative work, sir." He counted off on his fingers, "I answer phones, do the filing, correct paperwork… I've basically been a desk jockey since I started here."_

"_And you have a problem with that?" the older man retorted, his voice devoid of emotion._

_Sitting up a little bit straighter in his seat, as if hoping to increase his value to the lieutenant, he continued, "Well, I always envisioned my time in the organized crime unit to be a little more, uh, exciting than pushing papers all day. I mean, I was a traffic cop, a glorified meter maid before, so don't get me wrong—this is a big step up, but I always hoped for…well, for something more, I guess." _

"_Well, what if I told you we had an opening somewhere else in the department? Somewhere where I think you could be of use; somewhere you could make a difference, where your _unique_ skills could prove useful. What would you say to that?" the white-haired man cautiously queried, one eyebrow raised and a small, uncharacteristic smile on his face._

_Eyes beaming from his commanding officer's unexpected compliment and surprising smile, Bulanadi practically jumped on the opportunity. "Anything is better than pushing papers all day, boss. Just tell me where I'm needed and I'm there!"_

"_What if it meant giving up every aspect of who you are? Giving up your own personality, or giving up your family? Would you still want it then?" Jeong-Jeong asked enigmatically._

_Sokka's brow thoughtfully furrowed at his boss' sudden turn in conversation—was the old man trying to scare him away from the job? And what was with all the rhetorical questions? _

"_Well, uh, I guess it would be difficult—well, not being myself anymore would be hard; giving up my family not so much…I'm pretty much an orphan, Lieu, and I don't have a wife or anything, so that wouldn't be hard. But why do you ask? What kind of job am I getting transferred into?" he finished, his eyes thinning into little streaks while he wondered where Jeong-Jeong's line of questioning was leading._

"_Have you heard of the White Lotus Society, Sokka?" Jeong-Jeong continued, using the officer's first name to somehow imply his seriousness. It also brought the conversation to a more personal level, as if Jeong-Jeong wanted Sokka's personal reaction, not just his professional opinion._

"_Hell, who hasn't boss? They're only the biggest and most successful yakuza in L.A., not to mention the country…" He continued to rattle off information somewhat monotonously as he stared at a spot above Jeong-Jeong's head, his forehead scrunched in thought. "WLS is led by Iroh Sozin, the Dragon of the West and brother to Ozai Sozin, leader of the Red Dragon Society yakuza in Japan. Iroh started WLS in the late 90s and only recently rose to prominence in the U.S. as one of the greater leaders in modern organized crime. While he runs several legitimate businesses, including tea houses, restaurants, massage parlors, and card rooms, he allegedly does a lot of work in weapons, human trafficking, and money laundering for other gangs. But he refuses to do any trade in drugs for unknown reasons." When he finished, he grinned widely at his C.O. _

"_What kind of question is that?" Sokka queried in response, arms crossing at the thought that he—of all people—wouldn't know who the White Lotus Society was. For God's sake, they were only mentioned in the L.A. Times at least once a month for their illicit activity! As far as Sokka was concerned, the question should've been: who _hadn't_ heard of the White Lotus Society?_

"_If your enthusiasm is any indication, I think I got what I needed to know out of you, Bulanadi," Jeong-Jeong said seriously as he turned his chair away from Sokka and stared out the window momentarily. After a ten-second pause, the older man sighed as he slowly got up and walked around his massive oak desk, his hand scratching the back of his head as he considered his decision. When he reached the front of the large desk, he leaned against its edge, his eyes focused intently on the young man before him._

"_You're going undercover, Bulanadi. You're going to help us bring down the White Lotus Society. Tomorrow, you're going to clean out your desk and you're going to start your training. You've got to transform yourself into a low-level thug, gain the trust of the yakuza, and infiltrate its highest ranks," the white-haired man said matter-of-factly, as if he was telling someone what the weather was going to be like tomorrow. _

"_It's going to be hard—harder than anything you've ever known—and you'll have to give up a lot, but I think you can do it. You get along with everybody you come into contact with, you've obviously got a good memory, you disappear into the scenery when you need to, and you're obviously willing to work your ass off for the department if your commitment to 'pushing papers' is any indication. And you're a pretty good liar – I've known for awhile about your donut-eating problem," the old man chuckled at Sokka's surprised reaction. "So, don't disappoint me or your fellow officers. The city of Los Angeles is depending on you to help us take down its most notorious crime syndicate."_

_Upon seeing the wide-eyed and shocked look on Sokka's face, Lt. Jeong-Jeong barked a simple, "Dismissed!" signaling that the lower-ranked officer was free to leave his office. Scurrying out of his superior's den of mental torture, Sokka couldn't bring himself to speak to anyone, nor finish his paperwork, for the rest of the afternoon. Instead, he left the office and went down to his favorite coffee shop to contemplate his new role in the L.A.P.D._

Chuckling at the memory, Sokka returned his focus to the task at hand—he was to participate in the traditional sake-drinking ceremony with his new family, the White Lotus Society. To be honest, he was nervous, sitting there in his heavily starched shirt and navy blue pinstripe suit, being driven to the ceremony by a chauffeur. Not driving felt unnatural, especially since he had worked the past few months as a driver for the syndicate. Of course, Zuko had looked over at him when he chuckled, but the amber-eyed man simply chalked it up to nerves. Unsurprisingly, the tattooed driver's eyes never strayed from the road.

Sokka considered the situation – he'd gone through so much at this point that it seemed like the brass ring was just within reach for him. And once he got to the top, he'd be privy to secret information about the group's operations and, hopefully, the L.A. district attorney's office would be able to use that information to take the gang down. While he knew that he had done everything he needed to in order to get to this point – really, he was as mentally prepared as he could be – he still took a deep breath to calm himself. He closed his eyes as he exhaled, visualizing the ceremony as best he could.

He saw in his mind's eye everything that would happen – he'd sit next to Arnook, the guarantors would bring out the materials needed for the ceremony, the guarantors would then make their statement, and the ceremony would end with the symbolic drinking of each other's sake. The beauty of the ceremony was the simplicity of it; it held such deeper meaning, practically a religious one, like taking vows when you joined a convent. Or, in this case, when you joined the family.

They soon came to their destination, one of the tall high-rises that had been built on the edge of L.A.'s Little Tokyo, just outside of downtown. The building was a glass-and-metal testament to what the mayor had called the "new downtown L.A." A time in which Disney could build a concert hall, the bums would be cleaned from the streets, and people could enjoy the nightlife of an area that, up until a couple years ago, was known more for its prostitutes and drug dealers than its entertainment value. The city had changed, alright, but whether or not it was for the better was still undecided.

As the silver sedan pulled into the building's expansive parking garage, Sokka noticed the song playing on the car's satellite radio, "Little Green Bag." Listening to the lyrics, a particular passage stood out to Sokka, "Lookin' for some happiness, but there is only loneliness to find."

Upon hearing the line, Sokka wondered briefly what his real family—or what was left of it—would think if they knew what he was doing. His parents had been long dead—his mother a victim of a robbery gone horribly and violently wrong when he was about four; his father having died in military action by the time he reached adolescence. The only people that would care about his current situation would be his grandmother, Kana, better known as Gran-Gran, and his sister, Katara.

But, he hadn't spoken to either of them in months—the last time most likely being about a month after his undercover training began. He knew then that he could never tell them what was going on—just that he had left the force. They were initially worried about him, but knew that he would be able to handle it. Of course, lying to them was easier than the truth, he convinced himself. They didn't need to know what he was doing; what risks he was taking. Besides, Katara would most likely scream herself bluer than her eyes about how he was endangering his safety. He could almost hear her chastising voice in his head. She'd invariably ask what he was risking his life for—being sure to remind him that it was all just a "glorified game of cops and robbers," only this time, it wasn't a game; it was life or death.

Pulling him out of his reverie, Zuko rough voice spoke first, "We're here, Sokka." Turning to his companion, he looked at him seriously, "Do you have any questions?"

"Nah, Zuko, I don't have any questions. Besides, we've been over the ceremony like a dozen times, right?" He continued, flicking up a finger for each step he'd encounter during the ceremony, "We enter the ceremonial room, I sit down, we have a serious talk, I commit to serving Arnook and the society, and then we drink the sake—"

Shaking his head at his new partner, Zuko chastised him, "You forgot to mention that you need to take off your shoes, that you shouldn't speak unless spoken to—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. And I shouldn't make any nasty faces when I drink the sake—no matter how horrible it tastes—and I'm only supposed to sip it, blah, blah, blah…" Sokka continued in a clipped and annoyed tone, emphasizing each 'blah' with a wave of his hand.

Pinching the bridge of his nose and mentally counting to ten, Zuko stopped himself from saying anything—he had already learned it wasn't worth the time and effort when it came to Sokka. "Look, just don't act like an idiot. You've never been on the top floor—the main office—you should consider it a great honor to be allowed into the upper echelons of the White Lotus Society. No one's ever risen up in the ranks as fast as you have, so don't take it lightly."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, I know; you've only told me a million times that this is 'such a great honor,'" Sokka said mockingly as he got out of the car. When he looked over at Zuko, though, he realized he may have taken his retort a little too far. Besides, Sokka knew that Zuko had always placed a high price on honor, so his face turned serious. "I understand that it's an honor, Zuko. This is…important and I know it," he deadpanned. "Okay?"

Stepping away from the parked car, Zuko straightened out his skinny black tie, fixed the collar of his dark grey dress shirt, and ran his hands down the front of his well-tailored black pinstripe suit. As he picked invisible pieces of lint off his suit and avoided direct eye contact, he simply retorted, "Well, we all know it's no honor for me to be working with you. So shut up and let's get going." It was obvious that Zuko knew Sokka was sincere, but there was no point in addressing it, so long as Sokka knew the gravity of the situation.

While they silently approached the elevator, Sokka wondered if his partner would ever develop a sense of humor that went beyond dry sarcasm. 'Cause truth be told, he really hated that damn scowl on his face all the time—it was like the guy was physically incapable of smiling.

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They rode the large mirrored elevator to the top floor. As the doors slowly slid open, they were presented with a fantastic vista of downtown Los Angeles, the lights of the cars on the freeway twinkling like dozens of nearby stars. The sound of a fountain automatically caught Sokka's attention as they exited the elevator compartment. Turning to its source, he realized that it was no fountain—it was an elaborate series of fish tanks lining the wall.

Catching Sokka distracted, Zuko simply explained, "He has a thing for fish, you know. Too dangerous and expensive to have what he originally wanted—insurance would have been ridiculous if he had a koi pond up here—so he had a group of saltwater fish tanks custom-made to line the wall. Now stop staring and get moving."

Rather than argue with his partner, Sokka was satisfied to follow Zuko farther into the office area. It was well-lit with a soft, almost natural light emanating from the wall sconces. The reception area of the main office was a study in monochrome, from white furnishings to white bowls filled with water and floating white lotuses. The only spots of color in the room were the small black pillows accenting the couch, a framed black and white graphic print decorating one wall, and the black-suited receptionist at the desk.

A perky young woman greeted them upon entering the area. "Hey Zuko, you're five minutes early and your uncle is still in a meeting. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?"

"No thanks, Ty Lee." He turned to his—mind you, he was still warming up to the idea—younger brother, asking, "Would you like anything to drink Sokka?"

Finally tearing his eyes from examining his peculiar surroundings, Sokka turned to the front of the room. "Uh, no thanks." Locking eyes with the lady in front of him, he simply smiled.

"Hey, cutie, you're new around here, aren't you?" Ty Lee asked sweetly, batting her grey eyes for added effect.

Undaunted, Sokka flashed back his trademark grin and leaned his forearm against the reception desk, his voice dropping an octave as he suavely replied, "Sure am, baby. I'm Sokka—"

But before he could finish, a rotund, gray-haired man entered the room, proclaiming, "Ah, Sokka, Zuko, I see you're both here!" Wrapping an arm around each young man's shoulders, he began dragging them through glass double doors to the ceremony room. "Sorry to keep you waiting, boys, but business is business! Are you ready to join the White Lotus Society, Sokka?"

"Of course, sir. I'm ready," Sokka said in a low voice, implying he understood the inherent seriousness of the situation.

Patting him heavily on the back, the Dragon of the West exuberantly shouted, "Good to hear! But don't make it sound like we're going to your funeral—this _is_ a festive occasion you know." They soon approached a pair of paneled rice paper screens. Trading their street shoes for the white slippers laid out for their use, they carefully entered the tearoom.

The floors were lined with tatami mats and the plain white walls were lined with tasteful Japanese wood panel prints. At one end of the room stood a small altar where incense burned, adding a slightly spiced aroma to the room. On the altar sat three offerings: a bowl of rice, a whole fish, and a pile of salt.

Additionally, a small rice paper screen depicting a geisha under a sakura tree blocked off another doorway on the far side of the room. In the room's center sat a low table with white cushions surrounding it. Along one long end of the table sat several high-ranking members of the White Lotus Society. Nearest the head of the table where Iroh would sit was Jun, Iroh's wife who also served as oneesan, or older sister, to all the yakuza members.

For such ceremonies, women were expected to follow tradition and Jun was no exception. Her ink-black tresses were pulled back into a formal topknot, with her thick bangs sweeping across her forehead seductively. Her eyes were lined in black kohl and her lips colored a deep red, emphasizing her dramatic look. For all of Jun's exotic beauty, she simply sat there demurely—or as demurely as one of her stature could—in her black silk kimono, its cuffs and neckline embroidered with tiny lotus flowers in silvery white thread, reminding any ignorant soul where her loyalties truly lay.

Next to Jun sat Jee, the saiko komon or senior advisor, then Zhao, the so-honbucho or headquarters chief, with the wakagashira Shinu sitting on the other side of Zhao. All three men held serious looks on their faces, as they had just finished yet another argument on the appropriateness of Sokka's induction into the group so prematurely.

While Jee and Shinu believed he would make a strong addition to the team of shateigashira and would do a great job of overseeing a local gang, Zhao disagreed vehemently. Of course, Zhao had been overruled by the council, so he simply sat there disgruntled, the tightened jaw muscles on his face causing his rather large sideburns-cum-mutton chops to twitch.

At the end of the table sat Fong, the fuku-honbucho who oversaw several gangs located east of the I-5. To his left sat Arnook, the other fuku-honbucho who oversaw gangs located west of the I-5. Finally, there were only two empty seats for both Zuko and Sokka, which they quickly sat cross-legged upon. Sokka sat closest to Arnook, for whom he would be working closest with and would be his immediate oyabun.

Gazing at the small crowd before him, Iroh beamed a wide smile before moving into the more formal procedures of the induction ceremony.

"Ah, eight witnesses for the ceremony—what an auspicious number for your induction, Sokka! Hopefully, it will bode well for your service to the White Lotus Society." As he finished, he clapped his hands loudly, signaling the guarantors, or torimochinin, that would bring the ceremonial supplies.

Upon clapping, three young women entered from behind the screen in the corner. Both wore the red, black, and stark white make-up of a geisha, along with green and white kimonos that were patterned with a lotus flower weave. Each carried an enameled teak tray: one carrying the warmed sake; one carrying the utensils needed for the ceremony, including a wooden whisk, two cups, and a larger bowl; and the third one carrying an uncooked whole fish and a small bowl of sea salt. As they neared Arnook, they bowed their heads in the understanding that he would be the person to whom Sokka would be swearing his fealty.

However, the group would be surprised at Iroh's next words.

Considerately clearing his throat, he began, "Ladies, there has been a change in plan. The ceremony will take place between Sokka and myself, as opposed to him and Arnook."

At the declaration, all eyes went wide except for those of Jun, Zuko, and Arnook. Flustered, Sokka knew that this was a much more serious situation than he, or any of his L.A.P.D. superiors, had been anticipating—he wasn't simply swearing his loyalty to Arnook, leading one of the gangs that he oversaw. No, it was _much _bigger than that—he would be working directly under Iroh, the White Lotus Society's komicho.

Ignoring the questioning stares in his direction, Iroh motioned for Zuko to move. "Sokka, please take your rightful place next to me, as I will be your oyabun."

Nodding his head in understanding, Sokka stood up and sat in the seat vacated by Zuko. As the geishas walked around the table, Iroh shared a warm smile with the young man seated next to him. Unfortunately, the old man's attempt at comforting him went unnoticed by the younger man. Trying his best to not look like a fish out of water, Sokka focused on the process of the sake-sharing ceremony instead. He mentally thanked and cursed Zuko in equal measure; thanked, for the ceremony lessons, and cursed, as he'd obviously known about the change in plans and had left him no indication. He prayed he'd actually do exactly as Zuko had said, and not embarrass himself…

There were three servers: one a tall, young woman with shoulder-length brown hair, a shorter woman with her black hair tied back in a bun, and a petite woman with her hair braided elaborately. All three women kneeled to the side of Iroh and Sokka, one placing the sake on the table before them. The geishas concentrated on the task before them, as they were guarantors of the silent oath to be taken. As one steadied the tray with the bowls, the other poured the sake into the large empty bowl held by the third geisha. The taller of the three women sprinkled items from the smaller bowls into the larger bowl, including the salt, symbolizing purity, and the fish scales, symbolizing the energetic koi fish and its ability to persevere in times of adversity and the non-conformist nature of the yakuza itself.

Once the items were successfully mixed in with the wooden whisk, the mixture was carefully poured back into the sake carafe. With the two cups placed before them, the taller woman filled the two cups—Iroh's cup to the brim, symbolizing his status, while Sokka's was filled only halfway. Sokka sat there, desperate for someone to say something as the sake was mixed—the silence was all consuming—but he knew better. Besides, Zuko would throttle him the moment they left the building if he did anything he wasn't supposed to.

In a clear strong voice, the three women spoke in unison. Directing their voices at Sokka, they warned the soon-to-be-kobun of his impending duties. "From now on, you have no other occupation until the day you die. The oyabun is your only parent; follow him through fire and flood."

The two men nodded at each other in agreement, not breaking eye contact as they brought the cups to their lips.

Sipping on their now-salty sake, they meaningfully stared at each other for a moment before Iroh motioned for them to switch their glasses. Carefully handing his cup over—for his hands were trembling now—Sokka took Iroh's cup gingerly. The younger man took a few more tastes of the sake, while Iroh took the rest of Sokka's leftover serving in one long draught.

In deference to his new obayun, Sokka handed Iroh's cup back to him. With that, Iroh threw his head back and finished what was left, handing both cups to the tall geisha at his side, "Thank you, Suki."

Iroh nodded to the young women who had spoken the oath that now connected the two men, "Thank you, ladies."

Clearing the table, the three women left as silently as they had entered. However, the tallest of the three geishas, Suki, paused before disappearing behind the screen. For a moment, her eyes locked with Sokka. They smiled at each other briefly before the young woman departed. As the geisha left, Sokka returned his attention to his new family.

Turning back to Sokka, Iroh inclined his head in recognition of his new son, his new kobun. Returning the sign of respect, Sokka swiftly bowed low to his new father, breaking the silence when he loudly banged his head on the low table before him.

Sokka paled visibly; he was sure he was about to be executed, if not by Iroh, then by Zuko's doubtless molten eye-beams of fury. He slowly rose from his embarrassing position, unsure of what he should do: apologize profusely or take it like a man.

At the "thud" of Sokka's head hitting the table, Iroh couldn't contain his laughter, however. Slapping the young man hard on his back, he hooted, "I always wondered who the first one to do that would be! It seems that that our inauspicious group of nine has instead prevailed to bring you pain, Sokka."

Red with embarrassment, Sokka simply rubbed the sore spot on his forehead and shrugged sheepishly. The silent oath had been made; Sokka was now a full member of the White Lotus Society yakuza, and a son to the Dragon of the West.

Knowing that the night was long from over, he simply followed suit when Iroh and the others stood up from the table. His new life was about to begin.

* * *

**Some definitions:  
**

**Fuku-honbucho**: assists the wakagashira and oversees several gangs himself.  
**Geisha**: is a young woman trained in several arts, as well as ceremonial rituals, and is expected to perform for clients at will.  
**Koi**: literally "carp." These are the colorful, goldfish-like fish often seen in large ponds.  
**Komicho**: the overall boss of the yakuza syndicate; synonymous with oyabun.  
**Oneesan**: literally "older sister." In yakuza society, the wife of the oyabun is known to other yakuza members as an older sister.  
**Oyabun**: literally "father status" and the boss of a yakuza gang.**  
****Niisan**: literally "older brother." In yakuza society, everyone outside of the oyabun, or "father," is either an elder or younger brother to one another depending on who they've sworn loyalty to. Of course, everyone, directly or indirectly, swears loyalty to the oyabun.  
**Saiko Komon**: a senior advisor to the oyabun/kimocho of a yakuza.  
**Sakura**: Japanese for cherry blossom.  
**Shateigashira**: is the head of a single gang.  
**So-honbucho**: the headquarters chief oversees the day-to-day operations of the yakuza, as well as the literal building headquarters.  
**Tatami**: Japanese mats made of rice straw that are used as floor coverings.  
**Torimochinin**: the guarantors involved in any sake ceremony within yakuza society. Not only do they serve during oyabun-kobun ceremonies, but also when two yakuza gangs call a truce, join forces, or merge together.  
**Wakagashira**: governs several gangs in a region and is assisted by the fuku-honbucho.

**Characters:**

While I only use actual characters from _Avatar: The Last Airbender_, I thought I'd give everyone a little refresher course.

**Arnook**: appeared in the last three episodes of season three; he's the chief of the Northern Water Tribe and father to Yue.  
**Chey**: appeared in "The Deserter" and was the second person to leave the Fire Nation army and survive.  
**Fong**: appeared in "The Avatar State" and commanded the Earth Kingdom military base located on the island nearest the Fire Nation.  
**Jeong-Jeong**: appeared in "The Deserter;" he's the exiled Fire Nation general who initially trains Aang in firebending.  
**Jee**: appeared in three episodes; he's one of the senior officers of Zuko's ship in the first season.  
**Jun**: appeared in "Bato of the Water Tribe;" she's the bounty hunter that Zuko hires to find Katara, Sokka, and Aang.  
**Shinu**: appeared in "The Blue Spirit" and commanded the Yu Yan archers.  
**Zhao**: appears in several episodes; he's one of the main Fire Nation bad guys in the first season, as well as Zuko's nemesis.

**Author's Note:**

The sake-sharing ceremony is a traditional rite of passage into a yakuza syndicate and is modeled after the sake-sharing ceremony done during traditional Shinto weddings in Japan. I tried to be as factual as possible, but I cannot guarantee that everything is 100 percent correct. And, yes, salt and fish scales really are mixed into the sake before the oyabun and kobun consume it! Also, the numbers eight and nine are symbolic for different reasons—in Japan, eight is considered auspicious, while nine is a homophone for pain or distress.

As far as the quote at the top of the story goes, it's uttered during the scene where Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) and Vincent (John Travolta) are getting held up in the coffee shop in _Pulp Fiction_. When Jules says "three little Fonzies," he's referring to the always-cool Arthur Fonzarelli from the 1970s program "Happy Days" in order to calm Yolanda (Amanda Plummer) down. I thought it was a fitting reference for Sokka's need to "be cool" during the ceremony. Also, the song "Little Green Bag" is from the opening credits of Quentin Tarantino's _Reservoir Dogs_ and is a good reference to the happiness Sokka's trying to get – becoming a high-ranking member of the WLS – while consigning himself to loneliness and a life away from his family.

Thanks to Moor and Lover of the Flame for their awesome beta-reading abilities and thank you for reading and reviewing!


	3. Chapter 2: Reflections

**Dragons and Lotuses**

Description: Sokka is an undercover cop for the L.A.P.D., trying his best to infiltrate the notorious White Lotus Society yakuza. While his plans have always been to take the yakuza down, will he eventually take his artificial oaths of loyalty to heart?

Rating: This story is rated T, but may move to M for future mature situations, sex, violence, and/or language.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Avatar: The Last Airbender" or anything associated with it. This story is for amusement purposes only—so I hope you're amused!

* * *

**Chapter 2: Reflections**

"_I'm as serious as a heart attack."_

- Ordell Robbie in_ Jackie Brown_

He took a deep breath—it had happened; it had really and truly happened. Sokka was a member of the most elite yakuza in the continental U.S. His direct supervisor was no less than the Dragon of the West himself! He couldn't have imagined his meteoric rise to the top of LA's most notorious crime syndicate. He wasn't just playing a low-level thug anymore; he was a member of an elite circle.

He wasn't sure if it had been sheer luck, his well-developed skills, or a combination of the two, but he felt renewed—like he was starting a new part of his life. He imagined that it compared to other milestones in life: graduating from college, getting married, or having kids. Unfortunately, Sokka was yet to experience any of those things, having entered the force right out of high school and vowing to protect those who could not defend themselves. He never wanted any child to experience the death of their parents at the hand of some anonymous criminal like his sister and he had.

And it's what drove him to do what he did—even when he was simply a meter maid, writing out tickets for hours on end, he convinced himself of the inherent value of his job. Maybe one of the tickets he'd write would disprove a criminal's alibi, or track down a stolen vehicle. When he joined the organized crime unit, he fantasized of taking down major mobsters, and, now, here he was, in a position to make something like that happen. It was within his grasp…it was right there waiting for him. Shaking himself out of his self-referential reverie, he brought himself back to the present as everyone began rising from their seats.

As they stood up from the table, the taller geisha, named Suki, walked back into the room carrying a small metal tray, upon which sat a small velvet box. Taking the box from the proffered tray, Iroh turned to Sokka and opened it.

"A gift for my new kobun," the old man said with a gentle smile.

Grinning back at his obayun, Sokka carefully took the small metal object from Iroh's fingertips. The platinum lapel pin shone brightly, even in the low light, reflecting the lotus flower upon its surface. Carefully, the undercover agent pinned the object to the lapel of his navy blue pinstripe suit.

Smoothing out the lapel, he turned back to Iroh, asking, "How does it look, Oyabun?"

"Like it's been there for years, my boy," Iroh replied, his eyes thoughtful as he inspected him, his hands on the younger man's shoulders. "Like it's been there for years," he softly repeated. Turning to the group, his expression drastically changed and he shouted, "Now, it's time to celebrate!"

They all exited the small room and made their way back towards the lobby. As they walked through the double glass doors, Iroh called for the perky receptionist.

"Ty Lee, can you please alert the drivers and let them know we're ready to head out to dinner?"

"Of course, Mr. Sozin. I'll let them know you'll be waiting in the main lobby," the young woman replied eagerly, her fingers already dialing. Speaking into her headset, "Yes, they're ready and will be downstairs momentarily."

Turning to the gray-haired yakuza boss, she confirmed the evening's plans, "The drivers are on their way over, Iroh. As always, I've reserved the private room at the Flying Boar for you. Will there be anything else?"

"No, Ty Lee, you've done an excellent job. You're free for the evening—that is, unless you'd like to join us," the old man responded politely.

"Thank you, but I wouldn't want to impose, sir," she replied somewhat demurely, her eyes peeking up through her lashes at Sokka.

Noticing her subtle eyeing of Sokka, Iroh chuckled and reiterated his offer. "Nonsense! The company of a beautiful young lady could never be an imposition, my dear Ty Lee. Please, join us."

"Well, if you insist," she said with a large smile as she pulled the headset off and bent over to grab her purse. Of course, Sokka couldn't stop himself from quickly checking out the view.

Soon enough, they were in the mirrored confines of the elevator. The chit-chat of the group buzzed along as they went downstairs, everyone careful to avoid the subject of the impromptu change in Sokka's initiation ceremony.

Once out on the sidewalk, the group split into the three cars. Ty Lee, unsure of which car to ride in, stood there momentarily, hoping someone would direct her.

"Ty Lee, why don't you ride with Zuko and Sokka? It will be a great opportunity to get to know my newest and youngest kobun," Iroh remarked as he stooped to get into his car.

With a wide grin, Ty Lee nodded a silent thanks and joined the two young men as they disappeared into their vehicle. She sat in the back of the black Lincoln towncar with Sokka, while Zuko took the front seat.

And Zuko was glad that the bubbly young lady had joined them, as his memories of a similar ceremony came to the surface. He recalled his initiation into the White Lotus Society some years ago and was disinterested in talking to Sokka just then. Looking past the young bald and tattooed driver, his mind drifted back to his sake-sharing ceremony a few years ago.

Compared to his initiation, Sokka's ceremony had already been a festive occasion—and they hadn't even gone to dinner yet. Then again, completely different circumstances had surrounded Zuko's situation. Back then, he had just moved from Japan. His life was confused and in ruins. When his uncle had offered him the opportunity to join the White Lotus Society in the U.S., he had relished the idea of a new start and a way to regain his honor.

While he felt like he had nothing left to lose by leaving the country, that didn't mean it wasn't hard to say goodbye. As Ty Lee chatted in the background mindlessly, Zuko remembered the day before his arrival in the U.S. and his ceremony with Iroh.

_It had been raining all night—it was monsoon season—and it had only made Zuko brood more when he woke up early that morning and found the clouds blocking the rising sun. He lamented the fact that it would be his last sunrise in his homeland for some time, years at least, and as his luck would have it, he wouldn't even be able to see it! The world was gray and smelled of fresh asphalt—cold, wet tar—it was like his physical environment was reflecting his emotions in some weird twist of fate. At the time, he had considered the idea that maybe the kami were playing some kind of cruel trick on him as he had exited his old apartment building._

_She had approached him silently, as always, as he made his way to his car. When she was only an arm's length from him, he had turned around suddenly, catching her off-guard, a feat in and of itself. No matter how hard she had always tried to hide herself from him, he was still able to sense her presence somehow. He had told himself that it was just what happened when you became close to others._

_He faced her dead-on and glared at her unapologetically. "What do you want, Mai?" he asked in an annoyed voice, frustrated that she was following him. Didn't she understand the strain of the past few weeks? His life as he knew it was over and all she could think about was the end to their relationship—she never considered how hard it was for him to leave everything behind._

"_I wanted to say goodbye. I…I'll miss you, Zuko," her voice had desperately whispered. Her normally pale complexion was tinted with red, her eyes puffy from the crying she had done earlier that day. Her hair had been pulled back tightly, but messily, her bangs drooping in front of her eyes. She looked every bit the desperate woman—afraid of what she was losing and unsure of what the future held. She had grabbed for his arm, hoping that just one touch from her would make him change his mind._

"_I'm sure you will," he had replied emotionlessly as he avoided her touch. He couldn't let his face show how shocked he was to __see__ her like this—he'd never witnessed her in such an emotional state, but he knew there was no going back to how things were. Looking impatiently at his watch, he continued, "Anything else, Mai? I really should get going—my flight leaves in a few hours." In a most unfortunate circumstance for Mai, Zuko had no interest in continuing this conversation and had tried his best to provide her closure on their relationship some days ago._

"_Why won't you let me go with you? Everything we had together—didn't it mean something? I probably don't want to know the answer, but…won't you miss me?" she had quietly beseeched him, her voice uncharacteristically cracking._

"_It doesn't matter if I miss you, Mai, there's nothing left for me here. I have to start over—and I have to start over alone," he emphasized, making the statement as serious and as concrete as possible. _

_Turning from her, he flagged down a taxi. Soon enough, a car pulled over and idled at the curb as Zuko bid adieu to his former fiancé. _

"_Take care of yourself, Mai. I always thought you deserved better," he had said as he hunched over and stepped into the awaiting automobile. Within moments, the car peeled away on the slick asphalt, screeching a last goodbye as Mai hopelessly watched it disappear into the distance. The last visual she'd have of Zuko Sozin was the trail of the taxi's brake lights as he had left her standing expectantly on the sidewalk._

"Zuko?" a female voice perked up behind him.

"Hey, Zuko! You asleep or something?" a male voice piped in jokingly. Zuko didn't have to open his eyes to know that Sokka was smiling goofily.

Shaking his head, Zuko broke out of the old memory. "No, I'm not asleep. What is it?"

"I didn't know you and Ty Lee knew each other growing up! Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"You never asked," he replied as Ty Lee simply giggled in response.

-------------------------------------

"How long ago did you learn that this was going to happen?" Zhao demanded with a gruff voice.

"I knew last week, Zhao," Arnook responded simply, already anticipating Zhao's gross overreaction and already growing tired of it.

"And you didn't object? You didn't have any misgivings about him working so closely with Iroh?" Zhao continued as their car wound through the streets deftly.

"Not at all, Zhao. I believe he'll prove to be an asset to our organization. He's—"

"Asset?" Zhao growled incredulously. "You believe he's an asset?" His voice had a dangerous tone to it. "If anything, he's a liability. Have you and the old man lost your mind?"

"Look, ultimately, it's Iroh's decision – he _is _our oyabun. If he wants to vouch for him, then far be it for me to try and change his mind."

Shaking his head angrily, Zhao continued, "I don't like it—I don't trust something about that kid…There's something…off about him."

"You don't like anyone, Zhao, so we wouldn't expect you to start now," Jee bandied in order to cut the tension in the vehicle.

With that, Zhao shut his mouth. He stared out the window, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he mulled the subject over.

-------------------------------------

"You're doing it again," she plainly stated.

"I suppose I am, but how can I not reflect on other ceremonies? I've been doing this for more years than you've been alive, young lady," Iroh said less seriously as he tapped Jun's chin for emphasis.

"You have a point—albeit a small one, old man," she responded jokingly, wearing a playful smirk. However, her face went serious as she changed the subject to less light subjects. "But seriously, don't dwell on his death—not now. This is an important evening…"

"I know, but Lu Ten wasn't so much younger than Sokka when I shared sake with him. And now, Sokka's the same age as he was when he died…But I'll always wonder what would have happened if he hadn't gone into the family business. What if he was a doctor or a lawyer instead? Maybe he'd still be alive…Maybe if I had been watching him more carefully, he'd still be here," the old man finished, his voice cracking under the weight of his sad memories.

Taking his hand in hers, she looked at him meaningfully as she spoke. "And that's why you spoke with Arnook, isn't it?" The way she said it, it came out more as a statement of fact than a question. She had been with him so long, both as a friend and as his wife, and could read his emotions easily.

"You know me too well, my dear. You know me too well…" The old man finished, a morose smile gracing his wizened features as his free hand stroked the soft cheek of the woman that had helped him through that tough time in his life. Despite Jun's gruff outer exterior with others, she had no problems being sentimental with Iroh. And Iroh couldn't thank her enough for that.

----------------------------------------

The Flying Boar was a popular restaurant in Chinatown, just north of the I-10 and downtown. It was a unique restaurant, modeled after the North American opium dens of the late 1800s and early 1900s. Green and yellow paper lanterns hung low over large wooden tables, with deep green-colored velvet covering the cushions of the benches and chairs. Richly colored canopies, enshrouding patrons in privacy, surrounded the large booths.

While dark woods dominated the walls, there were also wall scrolls spouting various auspicious sayings. There were dumb-waiters in all four corners of the establishment, to provide food for the servers to take to the patrons on the upper level. There was even a small stream imbedded into the floor, with a fountain near the bar, all choreographed by a feng shui master. Had he not seen it before, Sokka's eyes would have goggled when he noticed the turtles swimming by. All the décor made the restaurant much more inviting than one would have expected from a former warehouse.

As Iroh approached the hostess stand, a young woman wearing an elegant, dark green Mandarin-style outfit sauntered out from around the corner and called out an excited greeting.

"If it isn't ol' Teabag—long time, no see!" The petite young lady beamed a wide smile as she stood there waiting for them, her long ebony hair pulled back into a simple bun and secured with a black headband.

"Ah, Toph, my dear," he responded, taking her hand in his and attempting to twirl her around. Of course, the young woman before him stood stock-still, gritting her teeth at his well-meaning intentions. "Still no dancing, I see," he said with a frown. "Is our room ready?"

"Ready and waiting, Teabag. What took you so long anyway? We could have fed Sokka three times over in the time it took you to get here!"

Overhearing Toph's jest, Sokka attempted to defend himself, especially since Ty Lee was with him, "I resent that Toph—I just have a healthy appetite!"

"Yeah right, Sokka. Remember that time I served you those eggrolls and you practically bit my finger off when I got too close? You eat like someone whose been stuck on a meatless, deserted island too long!" The young blind woman snickered openly at her own joke as she led them to the private dining room in the back in the restaurant.

They went down a long hallway adjacent to the large bustling main dining room before walking through the busy kitchen, the chefs yelling at each other in various Chinese dialects while the decidedly Latino busboys and dishwashers flitted about. The noise in the large kitchen bounced off the metal surfaces in a cacophonous symphony of sound. Of course, it was also hot with steam and the exotic smell of ginger, garlic, and sizzling pork—it _was_ the Flying Boar after all—floated about the room. As he caught whiffs of the chefs' latest concoction, Sokka's mouth began to water uncontrollably. As if on cue, his stomach began to growl, practically daring him to ignore it. Thankfully, Sokka's now-doting companion, Ty Lee, couldn't hear the gastric protests due to the noise of the kitchen.

The entire time, Iroh walked beside him, joyously introducing Sokka to any workers that passed by, "Meet my newest kobun!" Equally exuberant shouts of "congratulations" followed easily. Of course, all the staff members had already met Sokka at one point or another – either when he had come by to pick up lunch for the WLS higher-ups, or when he went there to eat on his own or with Zuko. The food was really good, not to mention, he always had a good time if Toph happened to be working – he reluctantly admitted that the young "lady" had a knack for telling the best off-color jokes.

After making their way through the stainless steel maze that was the kitchen, they walked down another short hallway before coming upon a private area with an entranceway composed of a pair of glass panels.

Opening the French doors to the separate room near the kitchen, Toph finally spoke up. "As usual, your private dining room. I'll be helping you out personally tonight so please take your seats and I'll be right back to take drink and appetizer orders."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Toph," Iroh called out over his shoulder as he pulled Jun's chair out for her.

Toph uttered a "No prob, Teabag," as she sauntered away.

The room they had been escorted to was decorated similarly to the main dining area, only much more intimate with only space for 12 people at the table. In the corners, the same green and yellow paper lanterns hung from the ceiling and the intimate space was paneled in dark woods. Similar wall scrolls decorated the walls as well, along with old black-and-white photos of Chinese opium dens and an elaborate wall tapestry embroidered with the restaurant's namesake.

Many of the local crime bosses held meetings here—it was a secure space and it was a long haul through the kitchen, so getting ambushed was practically impossible. Furthermore, since the Bei Fongs owned it, they were guaranteed great food and great service. In exchange, the family received certain benefits, including enhanced protection and increased business. The mutually beneficial arrangement was very useful and respected by all parties involved.

Everyone took a seat at the table, mirroring their earlier positions except for the addition of Ty Lee in between Iroh and Sokka. In moments, Toph re-entered the room, calling out, "So what can I get you guys to drink?"

Orders flew through the air at her as she rounded the table: "Johnny Walker Black on the rocks," "Tanqueray and tonic," "seven and seven," "white Russian," "Cape Cod," "cold sake and a Kirin," "hot sake," "crown on the rocks." As she duly noted each order mentally, only one caused her to repeat it: "Sokka-tini!"

"And what the hell is a 'Sokka-tini,' Snoozles?" she asked mockingly, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Yeah, what is a Sokka-tini? I've never heard of that before," Ty Lee commented with a slight pout.

At the sound of her voice, Toph inwardly cringed. She'd noticed the young woman's tentative footsteps earlier and had hoped she wasn't there with Sokka. Obviously, her wishes were for naught.

In a lower voice, Sokka addressed the young server before him, "Come on, Toph—you know…It's what I order every time…" In his frustration, Sokka's hands flailed momentarily, attempting to turn the wheels' of Toph's memory towards his oft-ordered drink. Of course, his gestures went unnoticed by the blind waitress.

Enjoying the tortured sound of Sokka's voice while being annoyed with Ty Lee's cutesy question, Toph smirked, "You must have me confused with someone that pays attention to you, Snoozles. So what'll it be?" she queried innocently, knowing full well what he meant by "Sokka-tini."

Slumping in his seat slightly, he mumbled, "Vodka martini, so dirty it's filthy, three olives—preferably the ones stuffed with cheese, if you've got 'em."

Entertained by his melodramatic response, she chuckled, "I think we can take care of that…" Her sea foam-green eyes blankly addressing Ty Lee, Toph tried her best to sound pleasant. "And for you, Miss?" she said with a forced smile.

"Oh, I've never been here before. What do you recommend?" Ty Lee innocently asked Sokka, the end of her braid coquettishly held in her hand.

Sokka opened his mouth but before he could speak, Toph had cut him off. "Well, we have lots of great drinks; is there anything you'd prefer?" she asked, going into super helpful waitress mode. Inside, of course, Toph wanted to smack the bubbleheaded girl upside her head for being such a dependent ditz.

"Hmm," the young receptionist mulled. "A martini or something like that sounds good. But it's gotta be a little sweet…"

"We have a great lychee cosmopolitan—would you like to try that?" Toph grated out.

Noticing the tension to his left, Zuko's good eyebrow perked up as his eyes tore from the conversation he was having with Arnook. He chuckled when he realized Sokka was absolutely clueless about the blind server's reaction to his impromptu dinner companion.

"Oh, that sounds good!" she squealed.

"Great," Toph said with perfunctory courtesy.

Looking to the rest of the table, she asked if they wanted any appetizers. Meanwhile, Ty Lee turned to Sokka and breathily whispered in his ear, "Lychees are one of my favorite fruits—they have an almost sensual flavor. Don't you think, Sokka?"

Sokka simply gulped and said, "Yeah," in response. He tugged on his collar for a moment, wondering when it had gotten so hot in there.

And while no one else had heard the comment, Toph sure had. As she continued to take the appetizer orders, her teeth gnashed silently in her mouth. If she wasn't committing the orders to memory, there's no doubt she would have broken whatever pencil or pen she would have been holding instead.

Meanwhile, the table hosted quiet conversation as the waitress made her rounds. Jun and Iroh spoke with the council members closest to them, Zhao quietly brooded, while Zuko did his best to create some small talk between the higher-ups at his end of the table.

Her duty done for the time being, Toph exited quietly and allowed them to consider the menus before them. After 15 minutes or so, she returned with additional servers laden down with trays full of their drinks and the food they had ordered.

Grabbing his whiskey, Iroh raised his glass high into the air, waiting for everyone to do the same before continuing. "To Sokka, the newest member of the White Lotus Society, and my newest kobun! May he do well in all things!"

Echoing Iroh's sentiments, the rest of the room's occupants raised their glasses, clinking them against each other true to the toast. After guzzling their drinks—or politely sipping as in Jun's and Ty Lee's cases—they turned their attention to the food laying out before them. Of course, they had to wait until Iroh ate something first, befitting his status as the boss. Noticing their eyes on him, Iroh obliged them and bit into a potsticker.

The moment the potsticker hit Iroh's lips, Sokka happily grabbed an eggroll from the nearby platter. He devoured it in seconds, much to Zuko's disgust. The scarred young man cringed at his "little" brother's obvious lack of manners and barbaric attitude towards food. As soon as he had finished his first eggroll, Sokka grabbed for a potsticker with his chopsticks in one hand and another eggroll with the other. He hadn't realized how famished he was until they had walked through that sweet-smelling kitchen; so now, he ate with a large disregard for anything resembling decorum.

Lucky for him, Ty Lee simply laughed at his antics, as Sokka furiously tried his best to devour everything in sight in as little time as possible. Had he been eating any faster, someone may have thought that he was in a professional eating competition. Thankfully, there was plenty for everyone; the group already aware that Sokka could eat twice as much as any 'normal' person and had ordered accordingly.

Trying his best to politely interrupt him, Zuko elbowed Sokka in the side and whispered angrily, "Stop eating like a barbarian, you idiot. Have you forgotten your manners completely?"

Raising his eyes to the rest of the group, Sokka finally noticed that not everyone was devouring the food before them. Seeing the look of realization on Sokka's face, Zuko was satisfied to leave his brother alone. Thoroughly chastened, Sokka quietly finished the contents of his plate before turning his attention to Ty Lee.

"So, uh, how's that drink, Ty Lee?" he asked as nonchalantly as possible while trying his best to ignore the untouched food on the table.

"It's pretty good – you should try it, Sokka," she replied. Without waiting for his response, Ty Lee brought the glass to Sokka's lips. The sudden gesture surprised the blue-eyed man, forcing a gulp of the drink down his throat. The musky sweetness of the drink surprised and delighted him.

"Hey, that's pretty good!" he exclaimed half-surprised. Sokka couldn't remember eating a lychee—whatever that was—before, but the fruity drink wasn't too bad.

Giggling in response, the receptionist replied, "I know, right?"

While they waited for Toph to return to take the food orders, everyone at the table huddled in close conversation with each other, Sokka and Ty Lee included. Within a few minutes, though, Sokka began to notice some troubling signs—he started to feel a little uncomfortable and clammy with sweat and his lips felt inflated or blubbery. Meanwhile, as he kept talking to Ty Lee, the inside of his mouth began to feel itchy for some strange reason, like he had eaten a foxtail that was perpetually poking his mouth.

Since he had already thrown his jacket over the back of his chair when they had sat down, he took a moment to loosen his collar and tie, at first calmly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt, then desperately tearing the offending strip of cloth from his neck. His eyes looked desperate for a moment as he tried clearing his throat.

His dinner companion was quick to notice his discomfort. "Are you okay, Sokka?" Ty Lee asked with her head cocked to the side like a confused puppy. "Do you need some water?" she pushed his glass at him carefully.

Grabbing his drink silently, he gulped down a good portion of it in an attempt to quell the now-burning feeling in his mouth. For a moment, he thought he may have been too generous with the red chili paste.

"Sokka, is something wrong?" the no-longer perky girl queried seriously, a look of concern on her face. In moments, Sokka's face flushed a deep crimson as little bumps slowly began spotting his face.

Flustered and now aware of what was going on, Sokka turned quickly to Zuko, who was in the middle of some lame attempt at small talk. He yanked Zuko's sleeve hard—so hard that Zuko turned to him scowling, only to have the look wash from his face the instant he saw Sokka's.

"Having…a hard time…breathing," was all Sokka could croak out before he passed out cold onto the table, his head hitting the table with a loud thud. As his brother fainted, Zuko's eyes went wide—well, at least the good one did.

Upon first glance to the other guests, it looked like Sokka was simply a bit drunk and giving a repeat performance of his earlier 'bow' to Iroh, but when they saw the nervous look on Zuko's face—a rare instance in and of itself—they knew it was much more serious than that.

Not knowing what to do, Zuko yelled, "Son of a bitch!"

Iroh stood up quickly, placing himself in between Sokka's limp body and Ty Lee, who looked somewhat hysterical by this time. The old man held Sokka up in his chair as Zuko tried shaking the young man awake.

Hearing the commotion, Toph entered the room and asked, "What's going on in here?"

"It looks like my young kobun is having a medical emergency of some kind," Iroh stated calmly, hoping to keep the situation somewhat under control even though, inside, he was growing just as concerned as his nephew. Knowing the young woman could not see what was going on, the oyabun provided a short description, "He's passed out right now, but he's breathing. And he's got what look like hives across his cheeks."

Nodding her head in understanding, Toph quickly pulled a cell phone out of her pocket. "Yes, this is the Flying Boar restaurant—we've got an emergency…" she drawled in a bored tone. "Yeah, that's the address…Allergic reaction I think—he's fainted and he's got hives…Yeah, we've got one on-site…Alright, see you in a few minutes."

As she flipped the cell phone shut, she deftly reached into her pocket, trading the phone for a small plastic tube. She removed a pen-like device from the cylindrical container and approached Zuko.

"Lay him on the ground, Scarface," she directed calmly. While Zuko bristled at the order and the unwelcomed use of her nickname for him, he did as he was told, Iroh assisting him. They were soon surrounded by the rest of the private room's patrons, all of them staring intently at the unconscious initiate before them. The young hostess approached his form, kneeling beside him in preparation.

Thankfully, Sokka was still breathing, although they were short, shallow breaths. While she considered administering the pen as directed—in Sokka's leg—she realized that revealing that much of him would do nothing for her, but it would give Ty Lee a glance of what Toph couldn't see. Without another moment's thought, Toph ripped open his shirt—her fingertips momentarily admiring his well-chiseled chest and the slightly raised outline of the tribal tattoo that framed it—and then she placed the EpiPen above his heart; she slammed it down and hit the trigger, administering the epinephrine that he needed to jolt his body out of its state of unconsciousness.

Within seconds, Sokka shot up and took a few deep, yet ragged, gulps of air. His eyes held a wild look as they darted around the people surrounding him. They all stared back at him, some still wondering what the hell was going on.

"If you're okay, say something!" Zuko ordered impatiently.

Sokka broke a toothy grin.

"Something," he croaked out in return. Zuko glared daggers at him—whether in anger or relief, Sokka wasn't sure. He felt a few hands reach out to pat him on the back, the head, or just offer to help him up.

In the distance, the sound of the approaching ambulance could be heard even through the relieved chuckles of Iroh and Toph.

* * *

**A Definition:**

**Kami**: An expression for a supreme being, which in Shinto, can also be used to describe lesser supernatural beings and spirits inhabiting the natural universe.

**Author's Note:**

EpiPens aren't normally administered via the chest; it's usually in the leg, through a layer of clothing. But I considered the fact that Toph should get something out of administering it. Of course, his chest would do more for her fingertips than his legs would. And the tattoo is inspired by a large Filipino/tribal tattoo I saw somewhere online. The guy had a huge "collar" tattooed across his chest. It was pretty cool as far as tattoos go.

In yakuza culture, tattoos are not only a point of pride, but also an identifier as a gangster in Japan. Of course, in the U.S. tattoos are pretty commonplace, so I figured a young guy like Sokka would want one. And, if you hadn't noticed, Sokka's Filipino in my story, so I figured it would work culturally, too.

The allergic reaction scene is inspired by the _Pulp Fiction_ scene where Mia Wallace (Uma Thurman) overdoses on drugs and Vincent Vega (John Travolta) has to administer a shot of adrenaline to save her. The line, "If you're all right, then say something," is uttered by Lance (Eric Stolcz), the drug dealer. Sokka doesn't strike me as someone who does drugs, even if he is undercover, so I made it an allergic reaction. Got to keep it interesting, right?

And, yes, people can be allergic to lychee fruit. I've read through a few medical articles that show the recent uptick in Westerners' allergic reactions to exotic fruits, as said fruits become more available in Europe and North America. Also, the symptoms described are pretty "run of the mill" for first-time anaphylactic shock.


	4. Chapter 3: The Healer

**Dragons & Lotuses**

Description: Sokka is an undercover cop for the L.A.P.D., trying his best to infiltrate the notorious White Lotus Society yakuza. While his plans have always been to take the yakuza down, will he eventually take his artificial oaths of loyalty to heart?

Rating: This story is rated T, but may move to M for future mature situations, sex, violence, and/or language.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Avatar: The Last Airbender" or anything associated with it. This story is for amusement purposes only—so I hope you're amused!

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Healer**

"_I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you."_

- Jules in _Pulp Fiction_

As soon as Toph heard the sirens, she reluctantly left Sokka's side to greet the paramedics at the front door. For the time being, Sokka was breathing raggedly, but at least he was conscious.

Meeting them at the curb, the ambulance's lights illuminated the dark street, as she put one hand on her hip while she jerked her thumb towards the establishment. "He's in the back of the restaurant. I gave him an EpiPen shot, so I think he's stable for the time being. Just follow me."

The two men simply looked at each other, nodded, and followed the smaller woman inside, gurney in tow. As they wove their way through the crowded restaurant, the diners would pause momentarily to watch them walk past. When they arrived at the private room, Sokka was seated in a chair, his shirt half-buttoned as he gulped down a glass of water. He was speaking in low tones to Zuko and Iroh, assuring them that he was now fine, and could they please pass him some roast duck? Unsure of what had caused his allergic reaction, they did their best to keep Sokka from the object of his desire.

Pointing at him, Toph introduced the paramedics to their patient, "That's him in the chair. I'll be right back." She stepped aside quickly so that the medics could enter and attend to the young man.

"How are you feeling, sir? We understand you had an allergic reaction," a young man with long dark hair queried. His eyes were kind as he wore a gentle smile – he was the type that required almost no effort to trust.

"I'm okay, I guess," he admitted sheepishly. "Guess I was allergic to something," Sokka acknowledged with a small shrug.

This time, the taller, bushy-haired paramedic spoke, "Well, guess it's a good thing that the restaurant had an EpiPen on hand. Let's check your vitals though real quick, okay?"

Sokka nodded and acquiesced to their ministrations. As they checked his breathing and his blood pressure, which was still somewhat low, the other guests in the room returned to their meals and light conversation. Well, almost all the other guests – Iroh and Zuko sat at Sokka's side as Jun did her best to distract Ty Lee from the distressing situation.

Pulling the stethoscope off, the long-haired medic shook his head, his hair shaking gracefully about. "Sir, since your blood pressure's still low, I think you should go to the E.R."

Sokka furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, before becoming slightly nervous. "Uh, look guys, I'm okay," he said, taking a few obvious deep breaths as if trying to convince them of his strong health. "See, breathing just fine now. I'm sure the blood pressure thing will just clear up!" He pasted on what he assumed was a beaming smile of health, but really looked like an awkward cross between a grimace of torture and a crooked smile.

Unfortunately for Sokka, the medics weren't convinced and this time, the bushy-haired one spoke, "Look buddy, I understand you might be feeling great now, but your reaction hasn't entirely cleared up. Now, would you rather be safe or sorry?" He paused, noting his patient's company, before smirking. "Besides, I think your lady friend over there would like you to head to the hospital, wouldn't you sweetie?" he finished, inclining his head in Ty Lee's direction.

At the mention of "lady friend," Ty Lee tore her attention away from Jun. Nodding eagerly, she agreed with the paramedic. "If they say you should go, you should go, Sokka. Just in case…"

At this point, Toph re-entered the room, an annoyed look on her face. "Well, no idea what might have set you off, Snoozles, nothing different about the food, either. It's the same old, same old. I guess it's a good thing we always have an EpiPen on hand," she said with a sigh. "Anyway, get lost and go to the hospital, Sokka. Have a doctor check you out or something," she said with a flippant wave of her hand, like she was shooing away an annoying pest.

"Now, I think everyone's over-reacting here," tried Sokka, putting up his hands to fend the advisors off. "I don't need to go to the hospital, okay? So, can everyone just let it go? Look, all that roast duck is just going to waste sitting there!" Sokka implored, hoping that everyone would just stop insisting. He knew he didn't need the kind of help he would get at the nearest hospital. He really, really didn't need what could be waiting for him there, either.

Clearing his throat, Iroh gave Sokka a serious look, "I think you should go, Sokka." As the young man began to argue, Iroh put his hand up. "This is not up for discussion; you're going." Looking at his nephew, he addressed him, "And Zuko is going with you—"

"Uncle, I don't think that's necessary—"

Narrowing his eyes, the old man cut off his nephew, "I didn't ask if it was necessary, Zuko. It's an order. Now, both of you, go."

"Looks like you're getting on the gurney, buddy," the bushy-haired paramedic grinned as he patted the piece of equipment at his side.

Grumbling to himself, Sokka picked up his jacket as he hopped up onto the gurney. "This is humiliating." He tried to swipe a few treats off the table as he went, but Iroh slapped his hand – and the potentially dangerous food – away.

"Then just consider it another part of your initiation, kobun," the bearded gentleman said with a concerned look as they wheeled Sokka out of the small dining area.

Sokka protested the indignity loudly the whole way, causing Iroh to chuckle slightly and reminding the older man of youth's independence and obstinacy. Sokka just wanted to keep up with the party, not be held back by a possible injury. He needed to learn to take care of himself, now that he was part of something bigger than himself… Someone could depend on him later, and if he wasn't in top form, it could lead to problems for more than just himself.

"While a chair will stand with three legs, it is more stable with four," Iroh sighed to himself. He recalled the image of a low table and something stirred within him.

A split-second later, Iroh jumped to his feet without warning and rushed to the door to catch the group of hospital-bound men.

"Oh, and he might have a head injury – he hit his head earlier! There could be something wrong with him, maybe some brain damage!" he called after the departing group, his own words reminding him of Sokka's over-enthusiastic bow-turned-headbang incident with the tabletop earlier that night.

"I think that's a permanent thing, Iroh," quipped Toph, as she leaned against a nearby wall, listening to the group depart the restaurant. In the distance, she heard Sokka groan in embarrassment at Iroh's words. "Ain't nothing can help that guy with that…"

---------------------------------------

Sokka was silent all the way to the hospital. He knew where they would be taking him – Mercy Hospital, just west of downtown. It was the closest, and since he didn't technically have medical insurance—unless you count a very rich oyabun—it would be the only place within miles that would take him in.

He quietly prayed, hoping against all hope that she wouldn't be working. There was a strong possibility that she wasn't; he convinced himself that she could have the night off, or perhaps she wasn't working there anymore. But it might have been too much for him to hope for. Not only had he not seen her in months, he already knew what her reaction would be to him showing up.

To be honest, there would most likely be shouting, name-calling, and, of course, her questions as to what he'd been up to, and who the hell Zuko was. He glanced furtively at his "brother," briefly wondering how he was supposed to explain him. Hell, Zuko practically screamed mobster—black pinstripe suit, ever-present scowl, and the bright red scar that bloomed across his face. Suffice it to say, Sokka knew this trip had the distinct potential to become an undeniably_un_pleasant experience. Then again, ambulance rides tended towards that trend…

Sokka glanced up with dread as the emergency vehicle stopped; they had pulled up to the E.R. The doors to the back compartment of the ambulance swung open, revealing the long-haired driver. "Looks like we're here, fellas," the bushy-haired paramedic stated with a wry grin as he hopped out.

They pulled out Sokka and his gurney, while Zuko stepped out of the vehicle carefully after him. The scarred man eyed the entrance to the E.R. warily. He hadn't been near a hospital for years and was not looking forward to escorting his brother. He silently cursed his uncle's order to accompany the new initiate, even though he knew it was his duty as the younger man's elder brother.

As they walked—or in Sokka's case, wheeled—towards the entrance, a nurse dressed in sky-blue scrubs ran out to greet them. She was a trim and tan young woman, her wavy, dark chestnut hair pulled back into a neat French braid. Thankfully, she didn't immediately recognize the patient, as his face was currently obscured by an oxygen mask.

"Hey Haru, hey Jet!" She smiled broadly as the young men pushed the gurney into the hospital.

"Hey Katara!" they answered together. While the bushy-haired brunette shook his head and smiled at their child-like and unplanned response, the long-haired one turned his head and blushed. Noticing their undue attention to his sister, Sokka's eyes squinted in suspicion. He wondered just how friendly these paramedics were with his sister.

"So, what have we got here?" she asked honestly as the bushy-haired brunette named Jet handed her a clipboard. The group came to a stop as Katara quickly scanned through the patient's chart, just inside the entrance of the hospital.

"Ah, anaphylactic shock, Mr…. Dimagiba—? " her bright aqua blue eyes widened as she read the name on the form, then squinted as she looked at the patient. Once she recognized him, her look instantly became a glare as she realized the man on the gurney was her brother. If she'd had hand-cuffs, Sokka had the feeling she'd have whipped them out and locked him to his gurney to keep him from fleeing. Instead, she kept a death grip on her clipboard, clutching desperately at her professionalism. "Long time, no see, Sokka. So _nice_ of you to visit…When I'm done checking you out, you've got some serious explaining to do." Her voice was humorless and hard-edged, leaving no room for argument; her eyes squinted in a motherly combination of anger, frustration, and concern.

Upon hearing Katara addressing the patient directly, the eyes of all three nearby men went wide. How exactly did she know this guy and why did she sound so…pissed? Even Zuko was surprised at her tone. He briefly wondered if she was an ex-girlfriend. Of course, Zuko had just spent the past hour watching Sokka flirt with Ty Lee. Maybe he was the type to leave angry ex-girlfriends in his wake? He supposed he still had quite a bit to learn about – or be subjected to, thanks to – his new 'family.'

Before Katara's stare burned a hole into Sokka's face, Jet eased into the conversation as gently as possible, cutting through the tension the only way he knew how—by changing the subject abruptly. To himself.

"So, uh, Katara we still on for dinner later this week?"

Tearing her gaze from her brother and smiling as brightly as she could, "Of course, Jet. Tuesday, right?"

"Yeah, Tuesday," he said, flashing his trademark smile at his successful attempt at brightening her face. "Lemme know if there's anywhere special you want to go, 'kay?"

Nodding, it didn't take long for Katara to turn her attention back to the young man before her. As they stood there for a moment in the hallway, her angry and irritated voice cut through the silence.

"Don't you think it's a little unnecessary for you to be on a gurney, Sokka? They're for the _real_ patients."

She stood there for a moment, tapping her foot, one hand on her hip as the other clutched the clipboard to her chest. Not wanting her to yell at him, the tanned man quickly complied.

"S'pose it is, huh?" Sokka replied earnestly. He took off the oxygen mask and ungracefully jumped off of the gurney, proffering it to the nearby paramedics. "Uh, thanks for the ride, I guess."

"No problem—it's kind of our job," Jet replied smoothly. Turning to Katara, he smiled, one eyebrow raised, as he said his goodbye, "Well, I guess I'll see you Tuesday, then." He then gave a small wave and turned to exit the hospital. Katara couldn't help but return it in kind as the pair of handsome paramedics walked away.

To his credit, Sokka stayed quiet during the exchange, despite his irritation at this brazen Jet character. What was his sister doing dating Jet anyway? It could have been his distrust of all men when it came to his sister or possibly some lingering indigestion, but something in Sokka's gut didn't sit right at the thought of his baby sister going out on a date with the bushy-haired EMT. However unhappy he was with the arrangement, though, he knew this wasn't the time or place to voice such thoughts, so he simply kept his mouth shut.

For her part, Katara did her best to memorize the list of colorful words that she'd share with her brother once they were alone and conceded to simply shoot angry glares at Sokka from time to time as she escorted him through the E.R.

Zuko watched the interaction out of the corner of his eye, for all intents and purposes appearing bored to anyone else, but observing the pair keenly. He knew his partner was a talker—compared to him anyway—and was instantly surprised at the younger man's willingness to keep his mouth shut. Who was this woman to Sokka? What unseen power did she lord over him? To say the least, Zuko was intrigued.

Admittedly, it was entertaining to watch the attractive nurse seethe at his 'brother,' Zuko thought to himself with an inner smirk. He probably wouldn't admit it if asked, but he liked the streak of independence characteristic of American women—in his opinion, all the women he had met in Japan seemed like pushovers or a little too eager to please for some reason. Even Mai, under her dull tone and serious demeanor, seemed complacent to him. She _had _carried out Azula's commands each and every time, despite his personal protestations otherwise. But that was most likely out of fear for her personal safety and begrudging her lifelong friend. Otherwise, there was nothing Mai denied him.

Then again, maybe it wasn't so much what women were really like, but how they reacted to him and his position as the son of a powerful yakuza boss; his position as heir to the Red Dragons did give him quite a bit of clout in Tokyo. But the way this woman carried herself, Zuko could think of nothing to compare her to except for a breath of fresh air, or maybe a splash of cool water—her confident behavior was refreshing in its own way, he quickly realized.

But as they followed her down the hospital corridor, Zuko trailed at the end of the threesome, increasingly lost in his thoughts as his eyes occasionally darted back and forth, scanning the area for any danger out of habit. He was always on alert and, even though there was no threat to their safety, he found himself subconsciously eyeing the area, just in case.

The hallway seemed endless; at each step, Zuko was reminded of all the things he hated about being in a hospital. So deep was his discomfort with his present environment, Zuko was able to mentally list all the things he hated about hospitals: the antiseptic, yet slightly urine-tainted smell; the unflattering fluorescent lighting; even the sound of the nurse's shoes squeaking across the linoleum flooring made the list. The list was very long. He'd had a lot of time to consider it, some time ago.

Ever since his accident, the one that had scarred his face, he'd hated hospitals. Thinking about what had happened all those years ago, Zuko's fingertips subconsciously grazed over the edge of the scar covering the left side of his face before he caught himself and covertly ran his fingers though his short black locks. Katara and Sokka got even further ahead of him as he stayed back. Their voices trailed off altogether.

He remembered it clearly…They had just left his parents' compound; he was driving with his mother in the passenger seat. At the time, his father had been experiencing troubles with some of the other yakuza groups; in fact, his father had received death threats. So, dutiful son that he was, Zuko escorted her on her weekly shopping trip. He'd always been that kind of son—he wanted nothing but to protect his mother, just as she had done when he was a boy.

They had just pulled out of the parking garage underneath their building. As the windows of the car were tinted, the attackers couldn't tell whether or not Ozai was in the vehicle. All Zuko remembered was the sound of a brick shattering the windshield and the Molotov cocktail that followed it, then the immediate and intense pain as they veered off the road and crashed into the guardrail, and the sickening smell of seared flesh; in fact, it was the smell of his own skin and muscle tissue burning off. Survival instincts and adrenaline had taken over, and he'd pulled himself out of the car and passed out on the nearby sidewalk.

Unfortunately, his mother wasn't so lucky. She had been knocked out upon impact when Zuko had lost control of the car and, thankfully, had died of smoke inhalation as the car burned. Thankfully, because the only comfort offered, small as it was, was the fact that she hadn't burned alive as the vehicle was consumed in flames.

Her death emotionally devastated him. It was days before he woke up and learned of it, though. He spent weeks in the hospital thereafter, recovering from the disfiguring burn on his face, being told how lucky he was to have survived; how lucky he was to be able to see out of his left eye. Every extended moment of his stay, he grew to hate his environment even more, seeing it as a personal prison, incubating his growing shame at not being able to protect the person that meant the most to him in the world—his mother.

And now, now that he was back in the germ-free, starkly lit hallways of a hospital, all the emotions from those weeks flooded back into his consciousness. He grimaced at the thought of having to spend the next few hours in a place that only brought thoughts of death to him; a place that held dark memories and only served to remind him of his reason for leaving Japan, for leaving his old life behind and all the emotional baggage that came with it.

As they turned a corner, Zuko pulled up abruptly and tore himself away from the morbid parade of memories.

They had been escorted into a small exam room. Sokka took a seat on the exam table while Zuko stood off to the side, attempting to relax for a moment. That is, until Sokka's younger sister spoke.

"So, what exactly did you eat, smart guy?" she said, raising one eyebrow as she stared down at her older brother. Her lips were pursed as if she stood ready to berate any response he gave. When he didn't reply, she filled in the silence for him. "Oh no, I bet you'd already cleared half the table before you noticed you'd started _choking to death! _Geez…"

Of course, Zuko couldn't help but chuckle in response—he didn't even know this woman and he already liked her. Anyone that could speak to Sokka like that deserved at least his respect. But he noticed something else—thinly veiled concern. Maybe it was the momentary softening of her eyes, or how her voice trailed off, but Zuko knew that, for some reason, this woman cared for his brother. After a few glances back and forth, Zuko realized how much the two looked alike—the same bright blue eyes, caramel-colored skin, and dark brown hair were a dead giveaway—and he guessed that they were somehow related.

Eyeing the strange man chuckling under his breath, Katara redirected her glare at him. "And who are you? Usually, patients are only accompanied by their family." She looked him up and down, her fiery sapphire eyes appraising him quickly. "And you sure as hell don't look like family."

"What's it to you? If he doesn't mind me being here, then I can be here," Zuko replied haughtily and with a slight sneer. He instantly decided that there was plenty to not like about this young woman, too, no matter how entertaining her prior interaction with Sokka may have been.

"Don't talk to me like that—I'm not some bimbo that you can talk down to. I'm part of the medical staff at this hospital and my first priority is my patient – and there is this tiny little thing we medical professionals like to call 'patient privacy.' Or maybe an _idiot thug_ like you has never heard of that," she retorted, one hand on her hip as her free index finger poked Zuko square in the chest. She stood as tall and as menacingly as possible, high on her tiptoes to glare at Zuko eye to eye.

To an innocent bystander, the interaction was insanely humorous, but to Sokka it was a potential World War III between his younger, emotionally volatile sister and his quick-to-anger older brother. Their antagonistic interplay was like a creeping barrage over an open field, laying the groundwork to develop into a full-frontal assault. Zuko's eyes squinted in frustration as he puffed his chest to retort, but Sokka cut him off quickly.

"Uh, Katara, this is Zuko…Zuko this is Katara…" Sokka cut in nervously as he physically jumped in between the two. Normally, Katara wouldn't have let it go at that, but Sokka was giving her "the look." It was a silent request, a particular look to their eyes that they had given each other often as children. When they were unwilling to share something with their social worker, or were trying to not get in trouble with Gran-Gran, they had used "the look" to silently communicate that nothing else should be said. Of course, in that inherent request was also the understanding that it could, and would, be discussed at a later date.

Gritting her teeth in understanding, Katara swallowed her pride. "Nice to meet you, Zuko," she automatically answered as she turned away and glanced down at Sokka's chart. Zuko stayed silent, but his eyebrows raised themselves, questioning her sudden change in demeanor. As Sokka moved back to the exam table, Katara thoughtfully leaned against the cabinet, her hip resting along its lip. Not skipping a beat, she changed the subject. "So, what exactly happened?"

"Well, I've been going to this awesome Chinese restaurant for months now and I guess there was something I ate that didn't agree with me. We were out to dinner with our boss. So, whatever it was, it got me. So, here I am…" he confessed with a shrug of his shoulders. "Can you just give me the all clear? Please?"

Rolling her eyes, she threw her brother a concerned look, "I guess that'll teach you to eat the way you do…Although, I suppose you were 'starving' like always," her fingers hooked in the still air, punctuating her sarcasm. As she made her small joke, her sapphire eyes seemed a little brighter and less tired and angry as she smiled at her older brother. She had missed this—their easy banter and his presence. It had been too long, she quickly decided. "Did you eat or drink anything out of the ordinary? Anything new that you haven't had before?"

"No, everything I ate was pretty much the same old stuff we order every time we go there," Sokka replied, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "But, now that you mention it, I did try a new drink…It was fruity and pink…But, what was it called?" he murmured to himself.

"Lychees. You had some of Ty Lee's lychee martini, remember?" Zuko reminded him.

"Oh yeah! That was new. Maybe it was that?" Sokka answered excitedly.

"Lychees, huh?" Katara noted on the form before her. She silently noted the name 'Ty Lee' in her mind – she'd have to make sure to ask about her sometime. "Okay, I'll go get you a doctor and we'll see if it was the lychees that did you in, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Katara," Sokka responded genuinely, albeit surprised at his sister's more calm handling of his impromptu visit.

She walked away purposefully, wanting her brother to get a doctor as quickly as possible. Allergic reactions were scary to begin with and Katara wanted to be sure he was stable before they released him. She briefly considered whether or not she should switch Sokka to another intake nurse—he was her brother and she should have grabbed somebody else the moment she noticed it. But, after all, he had changed his last name on the form—the only reason she recognized it was because Dimagiba was Gran-Gran's maiden name. Katara realized that there was really no way to get caught, so why not just help him out and get him out of there quickly?

Of course, she wondered why her brother had changed his name to begin with. He was obviously hiding something and she was sure to find out soon. Just how soon was the question.

---------------------------------------

Zuko found the exam room cramped with the three of them in it and he had felt slightly claustrophobic. And while the waiting room wasn't much better, at least he didn't have to stay there and watch Sokka get poked and prodded by the doctor.

So, he sat there, drinking a burnt cup of coffee while he regretted the dinner he had missed, watching some horrible made-for-TV movie on the crappy old television set. An old man snored and occasionally coughed to his left, while a little boy playing a PSP sat to his right with his weary mother. Keeping his free hand in his lap as the other clutched the paper coffee cup, he did his best to avoid the germs he was sure were swirling around the ill-lit room.

Bored and losing patience, he approached the nurses' station. He addressed the blue-eyed nurse directly, "Where can a guy have a smoke around here?"

Raising her right eyebrow in irritation, she glanced at the rude interrupter. "It's a _hospital_. There's no smoking allowed," she retorted acidly

"Not anywhere? You've got to be kidding me," Zuko said, his voice laced with irritation. So, here he was, stuck in a damn hospital, waiting for his stupid brother, drinking stale coffee, and he couldn't have one measly cigarette. The one thing that could possibly make this experience slightly bearable was, of course, out of his reach as always. Fate, the gods, destiny—whatever it was—must've hated him right then.

Katara had seen this before, people that for some inexplicable reason hated the hospital. It was in their body language and their attitude, unseen to most, but to the trained eye was as plain as day. And, for a moment, she felt something akin to empathy for him. Mumbling, "Why am I even doing this?" under her breathe, she sighed and addressed him. "Follow me."

Zuko didn't know what brought on her sudden change in attitude and really didn't care. All he knew was that he would be getting his much-needed nicotine fix. He followed her through the hospital and out a back door somewhere. She held the door open for him and, once he stepped through, she placed a small doorstop on the ground to allow them to re-enter later.

Once his eyes adjusted to the increased darkness, Zuko turned around and examined his surroundings. They were in some alley on the backside of the hospital, not too far from some dumpsters and the parking garage. As he dug in his pocket for his smokes, he muttered "thanks." He pulled out a silver cigarette case and, remembering his manners, turned to Katara and offered her one.

"No thanks. I quit years ago," she said automatically with a wave of her hands.

Zuko shrugged his shoulders and pulled a Zippo lighter out, deftly lighting the cigarette in his mouth and quickly flipping the lid shut. "I didn't peg you for a smoker, you know, being a nurse and all."

"Yeah, well I'm a nurse, not an angel," she retorted back without thinking.

Something had been bothering Katara since her brother had abruptly shown up in the emergency room. She realized just how long it had been since they'd seen each other; she hadn't seen or heard from him for months. She had broached the topic with him the last time they had spoken via phone, imploring her brother to update her on his life and how he was doing. She knew it was only natural to worry about her only family, but she also knew he was stubborn—as much so as herself, if not more so—and, for some reason, he didn't want to tell her about how he was.

Now, she could have just settled for a strained and silent relationship with him, but she had to at least know if he was okay. And the only possible source of steady information about her brother was standing right before her, silently puffing on his clove cigarette.

Knowing she needed to change her tactics with Zuko, she changed the subject. "So, you and Sokka were getting dinner with your boss, huh? Must've been quite the shock to see his allergic reaction."

"Something like that," he regarded her noncommittally. Why had she brought him out here? Why was she suddenly making small talk with him? And why was he intrigued by her? Really, there was nothing special about this woman with the exception of her unclear connection to Sokka. But there he was, having a smoke break and a conversation with her. Zuko blamed the odd situation on the hospital atmosphere, and convinced himself all would go back to normal once they left the depressing building.

Katara stood there for a moment, again thoughtfully appraising his appearance. While her earlier examination of him was cold and calculating, this time she was looking for something deeper. Like she was trying to discover his true thoughts and feelings, like she was peering into his very soul. Zuko suddenly found himself very uncomfortable—a foreign feeling he hadn't experienced since his teenage years. The scar on his face brought unwanted attention wherever he went, but he had long ago become accustomed to the stares it attracted. But now, with this tiny woman before him, he – the heir to the Red Dragons and nephew to the leader of the White Lotus Society, no less – was nervous.

She appraised him under the streetlight. As he pulled another long drag from his cigarette, lips pursed, Zuko looked almost cool—like one of those gangsters in an old black-and-white movie. The shadows created by the streetlight momentarily hid his scar as he stood there staring off into the night. For a moment, Katara considered that he would have been devastatingly handsome had he not received the scar. But, in a way, it also suited him she thought. Shaking her head, she returned to her original train of thought.

"Look, are you and Sokka close?" she asked point-blank.

"We're co-workers, partners," he answered in kind, as he took a long drag from his exotic-smelling cigarette. "Why do you ask?" he queried back as he exhaled a cloud of smoke, its remnants trailing skyward, carefully catching in the streetlight.

"Well, we're close and, uh, I haven't heard from him in months," she confessed as she turned from him and stared off into the night. She absentmindedly rubbed her bare arms as she continued, "I'm just worried about him, I guess." As she paused, she felt a heavy jacket smelling of clove cigarettes encase her shoulders. She looked at him over her shoulder and gave him a small smile and mumbled, "Thanks." For a moment, it looked like he could be civil—and for a moment, she thought he wasn't an _entirely _bad guy.

With an awkward silence blanketing them, she quickly dug into the pocket of her scrubs and pulled out a business card. On one side was the generic contact information for the nurses' station; on the other, Katara wrote her cell phone number.

She shoved the card at him quickly, thinking that getting it over with quickly was better than drawing it out—_just like pulling off a Band-Aid_, she told herself.

"Now, don't get any ideas, okay? But, I'm worried about Sokka. So, if it's not too much trouble, can you call me and let me know how he's doing from time to time? I really worry about him and he doesn't return my calls half the time—always tells me he's too busy…We play a mean game of phone tag," she half-heartedly chuckled. "Anyway, you seem like a decent enough guy, so I'd really appreciate it…"

To say Zuko was shocked at her request was an understatement. Not thirty minutes ago, this woman had insulted Zuko and, now, here she was asking _him_ for help. If it hadn't been such an out-of-the-blue request, he probably would have handed the card back to her and told her it was out of the question. But looking at her, the sincerity and worry in her eyes, he knew he couldn't refuse.

"Alright, but don't you think you owe me an apology?"

"Excuse me?"

"I said, 'don't you think you owe me an apology?' You know, for insulting me earlier?"

"Look, I only insulted you because you gave me attitude. If you would've just kept _your _big mouth shut, I wouldn't have said anything!"

"Let's just remember that I'm not the one asking for a favor here. I'm just saying that the least you could do is apologize and ask nicely. I'm just saying a 'please' would be nice."

Her tiny brown hands were balled into fists at her side as she felt her blood pressure rise. Just who did this guy think he was? As she grit her teeth, any thoughts she may have previously had regarding Zuko's decency were thrown out the window. Even if he was right about the courtesy part.

"You know what? Forget I said anything! I guess I didn't realize what a colossal pain in _your_ ass it would be to make a phone call every few weeks telling me how your 'co-worker' is doing. Just forget about it, okay?" With that, she tore the jacket from her form and threw it at him, and stomped towards the propped-open door. She swung it wide, kicked the doorstop out of the way, and promptly slammed the heavy metal door behind her.

As she stood there on the inside of the hospital, she leaned against the nearby wall and took a couple of calming breaths. All she had wanted was to know her brother was okay. Why couldn't she have even that small comfort? After a few seconds, she smoothed her hands over her scrubs and returned to the E.R., determined to forget what had just transpired between her and Sokka's infuriating co-worker.

Meanwhile, Zuko stood there, eyebrows raised at the young woman that had just left. He swung his jacket over his shoulder as he dropped his cigarette to the ground, squashing it under the heel of his Italian leather shoe. He walked up to the door and jiggled the handle. When it didn't budge, he quickly groaned and then began walking around the building. As he did so, he paused momentarily under the light, looking over Katara's phone number, fingering the business card as he decided whether or not to keep it. Unable to make a decision, he simply slipped it into his pocket, saving the decision for another day.

----------------------------------

The old balding man looked down at his clipboard, examining it closely. He made a few notes while Sokka attempted to wait patiently.

"So, uh, what's the diagnosis, Doc?" Sokka asked, desperate to get out of the hospital.

Clearing his throat as he wrote the discharge order for the patient before him, he responded. "Well, Mr. Dimagiba, it looks like you'll be fine." Quickly examining the IV bag to the left of Sokka, he continued, "As you can see, you're almost done with this. I've also prescribed you some antihistamines, which should help with your remaining symptoms. From what you've told me, it sounds like you're allergic to lychees. While I've read some articles regarding the recent increase in allergic reactions to exotic fruits, you'll still need to come in for a follow-up appointment so we can do an allergy test. Perhaps sometime next week... For the time being, just make sure to be more careful about what you eat, okay?"

"Of course, Dr. Pakku. Thanks," Sokka finished as he shook the old man's offered hand.

The white-haired fellow quickly left the small room and nodded his head at Katara, who was at the nearby nurses' station. He handed her the chart as he swiftly exited the area. As Katara re-entered the room, Sokka looked at Zuko, who was standing nearby in the hallway with his arms folded across his chest as he waited for Sokka to be let go. "Well, guess you can call the driver to come and get us."

"Done," was all the scarred man replied as he turned away. Anxious to leave, Zuko briskly walked out of the hospital and made his call from the parking lot.

Finally alone with his sister, Sokka began his explanation of what was going on. Or, at least, as much of what he could say about what was going on. Dreading what she may say, he slowly buttoned up his shirt before returning his sister's penetrating gaze.

"So, are you gonna tell me what the hell's going on and who that Zuko guy is, or what?" she said, tapping her foot impatiently on the white and gray linoleum as she crossed her arms.

Sokka took a deep breath and cleared his throat before responding. "Well, Zuko is my…co-worker. We were just out to dinner with our company when I got sick and here we are."

"Well, he seems like a jerk if you ask me. And I don't know why he'd come with you to the hospital, though. Kind of weird…And what's up with changing your name? When did that happen?"

"Uh, had to change it for, uh, professional reasons. No big deal, though. You still recognized it, right?"

"Yeah, I guess I did. So, just what kind of work are you doing now?"

"A little bit of this and a little bit of that…Nothing to write home about…"

"Obviously—especially since Gran-Gran and I haven't seen you in months. Sokka," she sighed as her fingers curled around the hem of her scrub top. She looked up at him earnestly, her eyes belying her emotions, "You know, she misses you and asks about you every time I visit her. You should try to go and see her sometime. She's lonely, Sokka…" She trailed off as her eyes looked away from him, not wanting to guilt him into seeing their grandmother, but wanting to explain the situation plainly.

He closed his eyes momentarily as he rubbed the back of his neck in guilt. He really did miss his family, but he didn't want them to know about what he was up to work-wise and he sure as hell didn't want to get them involved in any way, shape, or form. "I know, I know. I haven't been around lately…But, I've been busy. I'm sorry. Send her my love next time you see her, okay Katara?"

"Yeah, of course."

Suddenly aware of the fact that her impromptu visit with her brother was at an end, Katara felt the need to clear the exam room for the next patient. She tore off a new liner for the exam table and made sure all the little jars on the counter had been filled. With a sigh, she looked at her brother, "Well, I guess you should get going. What with your 'driver' coming and all…Don't be a stranger, okay Sokka? I worry about you…"

He slowly approached his baby sister—although she wasn't much of a 'baby' any more—and engulfed her in his arms. Sokka hadn't noticed it, but he had missed her all these months. Even in the artificial lighting of the hospital and its unfamiliar surroundings, he felt at home. His sister had that kind of effect on him, he guessed. "I worry about you, too, Katara. I promise to visit Gran-Gran soon and I'll try to keep in touch more often, okay?"

"Alright…and don't forget to schedule that follow-up appointment! You were lucky they had that Epi-pen at the restaurant, Sokka, and I wouldn't want your luck to run out, 'kay?"

"Fine, fine," he said, shrugging off his little sister's embrace. "Oh, and one last thing – no matter who asks you about it, don't mention my old job on the force, okay? It's in the past and I'd like to keep it that way, if you know what I mean." The younger sibling nodded in comprehension. "See you around, sis." He walked away quickly, glancing over his shoulder as he waved goodbye to her one last time.

Katara simply stood there, leaning on the door frame, smiling at him as he exited the building. She quietly whispered under her breath, "I hope I see you around, too, Sokka…" In moments, she turned her attention to another patient, trying her best to quell the little pang of loss she felt when her brother left her for God knew how long.

As Sokka whizzed past the automatic doors, he saw the car waiting for him, Zuko already seated inside. The moment he stepped into the vehicle, Zuko turned his attention to the young man. "Finally—I thought I'd fall asleep before you got out of there."

"Past your bedtime 'older' brother?" Sokka joked as the car pulled away from the curb. "Well, if you're so tired, why don't we just take you right home—if you're lucky, maybe I'll tuck you in."

"Very funny. I'm just glad to be out of that hellhole," Zuko replied dully as he stared out the window. "So, how do you know that nurse?" he quietly inquired. If nothing else, it was his business to know who his 'family' consorted with.

Sokka gulped momentarily, knowing that he could either tell the truth or lie. At this point, he knew lying about his sister's identity was out of the question—Zuko had seen her and could probably tell they were related. It certainly didn't take a detective to put two and two together when it came to the many shared physical attributes between the siblings. "That nurse is my younger sister, okay? But don't mention it to anyone—I don't want her getting caught up in my shit. Besides, I haven't seen her for months, so she just wanted to catch up a little bit…"

"Fine—secret's safe with me, 'little brother,'" Zuko muttered dryly as he quickly became lost in thought, staring out the window of the vehicle as his face remained unreadable. When Zuko heard Sokka say "younger sister," he was surprised to find that there was something to be jealous of when it came to his new brother. From what Zuko had already witnessed, Sokka had the kind of relationship with his sister that Zuko would never enjoy. His sister, Azula, was a power-hungry bitch and had always been more competitive with him than supportive.

When they were children, if Zuko did something, Azula had to do it better. Sibling rivalry was certainly an understatement when it came to their relationship. Even more disturbing was how Zuko's father had always doted on his youngest, encouraging what most would have called anti-social behavior and aggressiveness. She certainly didn't act like a normal Japanese woman.

In fact, if it weren't for the male dominance of his father's Red Dragon yakuza, Azula would certainly be clawing and killing her way to the top, enjoying every minute of it. Instead, she was her father's deadly secret weapon, doing his bidding as an assassin. With a small sigh of relief at the fact that that part of his life was behind him, Zuko turned his attention away from thoughts of his sister and his past, and stared out at the darkened streets of Los Angeles.

* * *

**Some definitions:**

Dimagiba—is a traditional Filipino last name that means "unbreakable" in Tagalog, the co-official language (along with English) in the Philippines.

**Author's Note:**

The "an apology would be nice" dialogue in the scene between Katara and Zuko behind the hospital is from _Pulp Fiction_, during "The Bonnie Situation" where Vincent Vega (John Travolta) mentions that "a please would be nice" when Mr. Wolf (Harvey Keitel) directs them regarding the cleaning of the brain-splattered car.

The chapter's quote "I don't wanna kill you, I wanna help you," is from the scene in_ Pulp Fiction _when Jules (Samuel L. Jackson) explains to Yolanda/Pumpkin (Amanda Plummer) and Ringo/Honey Bunny (Tim Roth) are robbing the coffee shop and demand Marcellus Wallace's (Ving Rhames) briefcase. I thought it was fitting, considering Katara's first reaction to seeing Sokka after so long would probably include a strong need to wring his little neck!

Sorry for the long wait on this chapter-- working full-time and going to grad school aren't exactly conducive to writing fanfic. Anyway, please read and review! Thanks!


	5. Chapter 4: Another Day

Another Day

**Dragons & Lotuses**

Description: Sokka is an undercover cop for the L.A.P.D., trying his best to infiltrate the notorious White Lotus Society yakuza. While his plans have always been to take the yakuza down, will he eventually take his artificial oaths of loyalty to heart?

Rating: This story is rated T, but may move to M for future mature situations, sex, violence, and/or language.

Disclaimer: I don't own "Avatar: The Last Airbender" or anything associated with it. This story is for amusement purposes only—so I hope you're amused!

* * *

**Chapter 4: Another Day**

_"__She's brought 'the boys' back together."_

- Bill in _Kill Bill, V. 2_

"So what you're telling me is that Iroh—Iroh Sozin, the Dragon of the West—is your oyabun?" Piandao said as he paced on the rooftop of the building in the morning sun. "This is unheard of, Sokka! Your luck is unbelievable," the older man finished, shaking his head.

"I know, right? I can't believe it myself. But, why me? I mean…I don't know why the old man changed his mind last night. I guess driving him around these past couple of months worked in my favor," Sokka replied as he walked around in a small circle, his hands laced behind his head. He soon realized that he should talk to Zuko about it sometime tomorrow, especially since his brother had seemed to be aware of the change in ceremony.

"Don't look too cocky just yet, Sokka. You know what this means, don't you?" Frowning at the blank look on the tanned man's face, the older man explained. "You're gonna have to be at the top of your game. There's no room for mistakes, Sokka. Have you been practicing those scripted stories?"

"When has there ever been room for mistakes, Piandao? And of course I've been practicing," the young man replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Good, 'cause you're gonna have to sound like you've been doing this for years—not months. And you're going to be under even more scrutiny. You can't screw this up." The older man stared off into the distance for a beat. "Being a higher-up means you'll be hanging out with the big boys more often – going out to dinners, major ceremonies, etc. This is a _big _deal," the older man emphasized. "Well, let's get to practicing those stories of yours. Gotta make 'em sound authentic."

"You got it, boss!" Sokka said enthusiastically before he took a seat in the plastic lawn chair and regaled Piandao with one of the fantastic stories about when he, supposedly, almost got caught with an ounce of hash by the cops.

* * *

There was a puddle of drool beneath his chin as he slept and, were it not for the annoying daylight that had invaded his room, he never would have awoken. Knowing the sun's rising would not abate, Sokka groggily grabbed the extra pillow on his bed and placed it on the top half of his face, leaving his mouth uncovered so that he could breathe freely. Of course, Sokka's bladder had other plans at the moment. So, he got up. With a grunt of frustration, he threw the pillow aside and stumbled to the bathroom, relieving himself in quick fashion.

When he finished, he stood at the bathroom counter, examining himself. He took a moment to consider his reflection in the nearby mirror – the stubble dotted across his face, the loosely tumbling chestnut locks, and the wrinkles that were now beginning to crack across his features. He wondered when he had become so…_old_. Hell, he even felt old! Maybe it was the stress of the job finally getting to him – the lieutenant had told him it would get hard living a double life, hadn't he?

Then again, he was beginning to feel tired. And the worst part of the whole thing was having to keep everything a secret from the only people he cared about, especially Katara. When was the last time he had visited her—outside of seeing Katara in the hospital a couple of nights ago? He became frustrated when he couldn't recall.

Serving two masters wasn't easy, especially when the possibility of being found out by the syndicate could lead to an unfortunate "accident" wherein his lifeless corpse was found in a roadside ditch, or worse yet, pieces of him scattered across L.A. County and not found at all.

When would the charade end, he silently wondered.

He sighed. It would end when Lt. Jeong-Jeong and Piandao decided it would end. It would end when he finally found something worth prosecuting Iroh and his yakuza members for. It was organized crime—all he had to do was take notes and not get killed, right? Realizing that his train of thought was going nowhere fast, he shook his head and grabbed his toothbrush. "Might as well get ready," he reconciled.

As Sokka showered, he considered what had happened at his initiation a few nights ago. He reflected on his time with his sister and their conversation when he was released. It was obvious his sister missed him, but how could he talk to her? He couldn't talk about his work—and, really, what else did he have to talk about? His non-existent social life or his lack of outside interests? He chuckled to himself as he dried off.

"You're boring as hell now, aren't you, old man?" he said to his reflection in the semi-fogged mirror. He always thought that he'd be married by now, maybe a kid on the way or something. When was the last time he'd been on a date, anyway? He thought about it for a minute, his eyebrows furrowed as he counted back in time. It was certainly before he went undercover, so at least a year. He frowned again as he realized he couldn't remember his last romantic encounter with the opposite sex. That was certainly disappointing.

Sokka finished shaving and got along with the rest of his morning routine. He got dressed and made some coffee, pouring some into his travel mug before he left his apartment. While he was readying himself to leave, he took a glance around his apartment and he saw glimpses of his old life—pictures with his family, his Lakers memorabilia, ticket stubs of the concerts he'd been to. And it all meant nothing now; he wasn't supposed to be Sokka Bulanadi anymore. He'd left that behind so many months ago.

But, he was doing what was right, what needed to be done. He was going to help bring down a group of dangerous gangsters, help keep people safe. People like his sister and his grandmother. And that was worth it, wasn't it?

"God, what is with all this philosophical bullshit I'm thinking about today? It's too damn early to be thinking about this…" he said in frustration as he grabbed his keys off their hook and locked up his apartment. Outside, he hopped into his car and made his way to Zuko's place.

* * *

He quickly let himself back into his apartment, depositing both his cell phone and his keys on the small table near the front door. Still sweating from his morning workout, he brought the towel that was hanging around his neck to his forehead, wiping away any remaining perspiration. As he made his way to the kitchen to grab something to drink, Zuko noticed a message waiting for him on his answering machine.

His cell phone, essentially his work phone, was reserved for any work-related calls or emergencies; his home phone was there for any personal calls he might make. For the most part, calls on his home phone were mostly from telemarketers. Unsurprisingly, he rarely made any personal calls, as that would actually require him having a personal life outside of work.

Nonetheless, he pressed the play button on the machine right before he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and considered his breakfast possibilities. To put it simply, he was unprepared for the voice that greeted him and promptly dropped the plastic bottle of water he had intended to drink.

"Hello, Zuzu," a saccharine voice started. "Or should I say 'good morning?' It seems that I'll be in Los Angeles on business soon, dear brother, and I thought that perhaps we could have a little family reunion while I'm there. Perhaps Uncle can join us, hm? It really has been _too_ long, hasn't it? Well, I'm sure we'll speak soon. Unless you're avoiding me, of course, which will simply _not _do, Zuzu. So make sure you answer my call next time. 'Til then, big brother. And please tell Uncle I say 'hi.'"

His brow furrowed as he whispered his younger sister's name, "Azula…" He could practically taste the concealed venom in his sister's words. He also knew that his sister's "business"—if one could really call it that—would mean someone in L.A. was going to be added as another homicide statistic. Azula was simply that good at what she did as an assassin for hire. She never made a mistake and never got caught. And as far as anyone knew, she flew under the radar just enough so that no one truly suspected what she did for a living. To law enforcement agencies, she was a non-threat; she was just the spoiled daughter of a yakuza leader in Japan. Azula carried out whatever mission she had been hired for efficiently and quickly, and was paid handsomely for it.

It was just another way to one-up him, Zuko had realized many years ago. Where he had hesitated to kill, she never did. It was like that between the brother and sister, their very own sick and twisted version of sibling rivalry. When they were young, whenever Zuko got a new belt in martial arts, Azula did, too. When Zuko learned to read, Azula did, too. He was an average boy and she was a child prodigy—everything he could do, she could do better, despite his two-year advantage in age over her.

And so it was with everything in life, except for when Zuko followed in their father's footsteps and joined the yakuza. In Japan, yakuza followed the old ways of paternal hierarchy. It was the one place where a woman like Azula could not follow. So, instead, she created her own path as an assassin and continued to be "daddy's little girl" in a sense, carrying out the secretive work of her father and helping him create new alliances when another yakuza boss was killed. The blame never did center on Ozai, but Zuko knew his father's backroom dealings were predicated on orders he had made to Azula.

Put simply, Azula was an angel of death, like a grim reaper or a shinigami. If she appeared somewhere, it was like an omen or a portending dark cloud. A visit from Azula might as well have been a "kiss of death" from her ruby-red lips.

But, now, Zuko had bigger things to worry about. With his sister's impending visit, it meant she had been hired to kill. But who? Who in L.A. could afford Azula's asking price and who was enough of a threat to kill? He replayed the message to see if she had alluded to anyone in particular—Azula was well known for using subtext when it suited her interests.

Zuko stood there horrified for a moment when she mentioned their uncle—was he her work assignment? Zuko could think of a few people that wouldn't mind seeing his uncle gone; there were other gangs that could make quite a bit of money if the old man were suddenly out of the picture. But who? His uncle, being the polite old man that he was, was well-liked by most of the other crime leaders in L.A. He stuck to his business and kept it only in areas that the White Lotus Society already controlled.

And while other bosses might have to be afraid of being backstabbed by their own men, Iroh had always made sure to keep his yakuza somewhat democratic by keeping it as an affiliation of gangs, as opposed to a top-down business model where he served as dictator. Considering the ways other gangs were run, Iroh had, for the most part, kept an even balance of power between himself, his advisors, and his men.

Zuko's mind raced as he considered the possibilities. But this was no time to stand in his kitchen and deliberate his sister's words. He had to get word to his uncle, and fast. It wouldn't do to deliver this kind of news over the phone, either. What if Azula had already gone to work bugging the phones? Hell, she could be watching him now, for all he knew. And it wouldn't exactly be out of character if she already were. That was the younger Sozin for you—always calculating, always prepared.

Deciding he needed to speak with his uncle in person soon, Zuko chugged his water and decided that he didn't have an appetite for breakfast anyway. He wiped his face with the damp towel one more time before heading to the shower. He silently hoped that this wouldn't be one of those mornings where Sokka ran late—there was no excuse for it as far as he was concerned.

* * *

She took another sip of her triple espresso as she watched a tanned young man in a black Lincoln Navigator pull up to the apartment complex across the street from her. Topaz-colored eyes peeked over a paper cup as he put the car in park and placed his cell phone at his ear. Her fingers lightly tapped the leather steering wheel of her rented car as her eyes observed him.

In moments, a familiar figure strode out of the building. "Ah, Zuko, so is this your new 'brother'? He's cute, in a tough, American kind of way." Her lips pursed as she took note of his profile. As soon as Zuko got in the car, the vehicle pulled away from the curb.

"I wonder if it's considered incest if Zuko's his older brother?" Azula considered before laughing at the thought. She started up the car and began tailing the SUV. She had been curious as to what her brother had been up to since leaving home.

* * *

Sokka noticed that Zuko was in a bad mood that morning, as usual. The blue-eyed man sipped on his coffee as they drove to the office. Sokka hated doing the driving, especially in morning traffic, but what choice did you have in L.A.? Besides, Zuko refused to drive. Sokka always figured the reason his brother didn't drive was because he was at the top and never had to. Of course, Sokka had no idea what had happened to Zuko the last time he had been driving.

As they drove into the office, the radio filled the silence.

"That was the Partridge Family's 'Doesn't Somebody Want to Be Wanted,' followed by Addison Lighthouse's 'Love Grows Where My Rosemary Goes,'" the monotonous D.J.'s voice intoned from the speakers. "K. Billy's Super Sounds of the 70's just keeps on truckin'."

Preferring the silence to Sokka's bad choice in music, Zuko scowled and turned off the radio. He turned his eyes back to the freeway as they made their way through the snaking traffic, puffing on his cigarette all the while. Sokka just shook his head, knowing better than to say anything.

Soon enough, they were at the familiar glass and gunmetal tower overlooking downtown. Zuko still hadn't said anything that morning and it wasn't in Sokka's nature to ask his partner what was wrong. Besides, Zuko would probably bristle at the sound of Sokka asking, "What crawled up your ass and died there this morning?"

When they finally got to the all-white reception room, Zuko turned to him. "I've got to talk to my uncle alone for a minute. We'll call for you."

"Yeah, whatever," Sokka replied with a wave of his hand as he took a seat on the plush, white couch. He absentmindedly stared around the room, sipping on his coffee as he waited to be beckoned to Iroh's office.

In moments, a pink- and black-clad Ty Lee bounded into the room, her hands filled with a stack of files. When she turned her head his way, she stumbled, tripping on something unseen. As he watched her fall forward, Sokka instinctively shot forward, ready to help her recover. However, Ty Lee didn't fall and, instead, tucked into a somersault and shot up quickly after her smooth tumble. If Sokka hadn't known better, he would have thought she meant to do that. As she stood up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she quickly pasted a smile on her face.

"Good morning, Sokka!" she chirped exuberantly before placing the stack of files on her desk.

"Good morning, Ty Lee; guess I surprised you, huh? Sorry 'bout that," he said, unsure of what he should do next.

"It's okay. I just thought you were someone else for a second. Did you need anything?"

"I've got some coffee, thanks," he responded, tipping his cup in her direction. "Just waiting on Iroh and Zuko…" he trailed off.

"Oh, okay," Ty Lee said, a little more flustered this time. Was she getting nervous around him, he wondered? To the untrained eye, it certainly looked like it. "I wonder what they could be talking about?" Ty Lee absentmindedly asked under her breath. Of course, she belatedly realized that she had spoken aloud.

"Probably family stuff or something."

"Yeah, family stuff," Ty Lee said with a nervous giggle. Now, Sokka wasn't dense with the ladies, at least not since he was in high school. Maybe this was the right time to ask—he'd wanted to ask her out since they met, but he didn't want to seem too…desperate.

"Hey, Ty Lee, what do you do for fun in this city?" he asked as he took a seat on the couch again, looking up from his coffee cup for a moment.

Ty Lee's head rose from the task of organizing all the files on her desk, her gray eyes meeting his blue ones momentarily. "Uh, for fun?" she asked aloud, breaking from her preoccupation with the files.

"Yeah, what do you do for fun? You know, on the weekends and stuff."

"Go shopping in the garment district, hit up the clubs sometime, go out to Nobu…Stuff like that. Why?" the secretary said nonchalantly before returning her attention to the task at hand.

Sokka slowly rose up from the couch and made his way over to the receptionist's desk. He placed his coffee on the countertop and leaned over towards Ty Lee. Mustering his courage and using his most suave voice possible, he went for it. "Well, I was thinking, maybe you and I could go out sometime…Maybe dinner or something this weekend?"

"I, uh, well…"

* * *

"Good morning, Zuko. Lovely day, isn't it?" Iroh greeted his nephew as he stared out at the awakening City of Angels.

"Good morning, Uncle," Zuko said with an incline of his head in his uncle's direction. "I got an important phone call this morning, Uncle. It was from—"

"Azula. I know she's coming to town, Zuko. She called Ty Lee last night, as well. She told me this morning. Poor girl was quite nervous, but that's why she works here, so we can protect her and her family."

"Well, what are we going to do? Azula's coming here for a reason—she doesn't leave our father's side unless she's paid to. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Yes, she's here to do some work on behalf of whomever her benefactor is at present. Your sister only called you and Ty Lee to toy with us, Zuko. She wants us to live in fear, in fear that her work has to do with us."

"And, what if she _is_ here to see one of us, Uncle. What if she's here for you? What then?"

"There is no 'what then,' nephew. I will not live in fear of your sister. She has her job, but who's to say her business has anything to do with me? She could just be toying with your emotions, you know. She always enjoyed that even when you were children… Like it was some game between the two of you.

"Even if she is here for me, what does it matter? Perhaps one of my rivals is looking to gain control of our territory. What then? They'll get me one way or another. All I can do is be prepared…"

"Uncle, how can you be so blasé about this? This is _Azula_ we're talking about here—she's an _assassin_, Uncle! If she's coming to L.A., there's no doubt she's coming to kill someone and what if it's you? What then? Who will lead the Society?" Zuko paced across the expanse of his uncle's office, while Iroh still continued to stare out the window calmly.

"There's no use in fearing what the future may or may not bring, nephew. Besides, what worries should I have? Jun is as strong a leader as we could ask for in my absence, you're here, and there is the rest of the council to consider—it's full of nothing but strong leaders. The White Lotus Society is in no danger as far as I am concerned," the gray-haired man finished as he turned his chair to face Zuko, who was now standing off to his side.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood there beside the only relative he considered his family. "Uncle, I'm just worried, okay?"

Iroh stood up and walked towards his nephew, who had moved closer to the windows. Resting his hand on the young man's shoulder, he replied, "I know, nephew. I know. Besides, your sister's crazy, so who knows what she's up to?" The old man patted his nephew's back as he chuckled to himself. While Iroh was worried about his niece, he knew there was no use in it. She was too good at what she did and whoever hired her knew that. She would get the job done regardless. And if he was the job, he was as good as dead.

Then again, Iroh wasn't one to take things lying down and shared as much with Zuko. Tapping on the window before them with his knuckles, Iroh looked at his nephew, who wore a look crossed between confusion and anger at his uncle's seemingly nonchalant response to Azula. "Did you know this glass is bullet-proof, Zuko? All of our cars are armored, too – Teo's father took care of them. He also had a Kevlar vest made especially for me; it should be able to withstand those burrowing bullets that make it through traditional bullet-proof vests. And, of course, there's the girls."

"What girls? You mean those geishas from Kyushu? What about them?" Zuko asked, more confused now than he had been previously. He wondered what in the world his uncle was getting at. He had always thought that the girls that his uncle seemed to insist on surrounding himself with were just pretty entertainers for the old man, serving sake and tea on command, dancing, singing, or playing the shamisen as the oyabun requested. He'd always known his uncle to be a ladies' man and had always figured they were there to fulfill any…needs his uncle might have. For a moment, Zuko's face went pale as he tried to steer his imagination from any further colorful thoughts involving his uncle.

The gray-bearded man chuckled to himself for a moment, as his nephew's emotions ran rampant across his face. Iroh stroked his beard as he stared at the wall adorned with a rice paper watercolor painting that one of the women had gifted him with. "And do you think those beautiful young women are here without Jun's approval? They aren't there for show, Zuko. Besides being exquisitely talented and serving as guarantors during ceremonies, they are my personal bodyguards, nephew.

"Those young women once served Jun when she was the leader of the Black Rose Society on Kyushu Island. Sure, they were just a biker gang of young women, but Jun only trusts them to protect me, her husband. I'm honored that my wife would choose such a talented group of ladies as my bodyguards. They're trained in hand-to-hand combat, several types of weaponry, and all of them have sworn their own lives to protect mine. Why such young women would ally themselves to protect an old, graying man is beyond me, but, then again, it was my wife that saved them all from poverty and violence back home. Suki was the one to suggest the make-up and the geisha outfits, said it would keep them anonymous and untraceable, if needed."

Zuko stood there dumbstruck for a moment and sunk into one of the black leather armchairs across from his uncle's desk. He had always thought that there were no secrets between him and his uncle. Obviously, he was wrong. But he recognized the craftiness of his uncle in keeping this quiet. No one in the White Lotus Society suspected these women of being anything more than entertainers or guarantors. While his uncle had always made the appearance of an old mob boss, he now realized that his uncle had a propensity for planning and strategy that Zuko was only beginning to learn of.

Smiling at his nephew, who was still sitting in what Iroh hoped was awe, the grayed oyabun walked up to his desk and pressed the speakerphone button on the telephone. As soon as the young woman answered, he responded, "Ty Lee, could you send in Sokka now?"

There was a crackling noise before the receptionist responded, "Sure, Mr. Sozin. He's on his way in."

Iroh turned to his nephew momentarily. "I think it's time we shared this information regarding your sister with your younger brother, Zuko. He is my most trusted kobun besides you."

Zuko simply nodded his agreement while they waited for Sokka.

* * *

"I, uh, well…"

The phone on her desk suddenly lit up and, as programmed, emitted a tinkling ring to notify her that a call was coming in from her boss. Ty Lee had _never_ been so happy to have a call interrupt her conversation. It wasn't that she didn't like Sokka or that she wouldn't enjoy going on a date with him, but she had bigger things to worry about right now. Like how she was going to deal with Azula…

"Excuse me, Sokka. It's Mr. Sozin."

Sokka nodded through his nervousness. Why had she sounded so unsure? Did he say something wrong? Did his breath stink or something? He quickly cupped his hand to his mouth and did a quick check. Besides smelling like coffee, it didn't smell too bad. He considered that maybe she didn't like coffee. Lots of people disliked coffee, right? But then he noticed the small mug on her desk filled to the brim with some of the black brew. He surmised that it couldn't be his breath. But then what?

As Sokka stood there, Ty Lee quickly picked up the call as it came in over her headset. "Yes, Mr. Sozin?" After a short pause, she continued, "Sure, Mr. Sozin. He's on his way in.

"Sokka, Mr. Sozin and Zuko are ready to see you now."

"Uh, thanks, Ty Lee. About a minute ago…" the tanned young man ran his hand through his unbound hair.

"Oh, about that. I'm kind of busy right now with some, uh, stuff. But maybe some other time? Could you give me a rain check?" The young woman beamed a genuine smile at him, hoping he would recognize the sincerity in her statement.

Smiling back, the young man replied, "Okay, I'll give you a rain check." He was glad that she just sounded busy and not repulsed by the idea of going out with him. As he walked towards the boss' office, he called out over his shoulder, "Hope things calm down soon."

"Me, too," she said quietly to herself as he entered the adjoining office. When the young man was out of sight, Ty Lee openly pouted. "She's not even here, yet, and I'm already kowtowing to her demands. Dammit, Azula," she whispered as she returned to her filing.

* * *

"Good morning, Sokka!" the old man called out cheerfully. "Please take a seat," he said, motioning to the empty chair next to Zuko.

"Morning, Oyabun," the tanned man replied in return. "So, what's up?"

"Sokka, you're aware that Zuko has a sister, aren't you?" the gray-bearded man asked plainly.

"Zuko has a sister?" Sokka asked back. Of course, Sokka knew Zuko had a sister, he had learned that months ago when he had done some research on the top members of the White Lotus Society. So, instead, he turned in mock surprise to Zuko. "I can't believe you never shared that with me, Zuko!" The old man chuckled at Sokka's jest momentarily. "Nope, sorry, boss, Zuko didn't tell me he had a sister. As you might imagine, we don't exactly 'share' very often."

Iroh's eyebrow perked up momentarily. "Somehow that doesn't surprise me, kobun. Nonetheless, Zuko has a younger sister, a dangerous younger sister, named Azula—"

"What do you mean 'dangerous,' oyabun?" Sokka interrupted momentarily.

"Azula's an assassin for hire, Sokka," Zuko said through clenched teeth. And he was pinching the bridge of his nose again, as if the thought of his sister pained him.

"An assassin? Your sister?" Sokka said, immediately surprised. All the research he'd studied about Zuko's family in Japan said nothing about Zuko's sister being involved in crime of any kind. This meant one thing—she was extremely good at what she did. "And I thought my sister was a pain in the ass…" Sokka realized too late that he had mentioned someone that only Zuko knew about.

"You have a sister, Sokka?" Iroh asked in an attempt to bring the conversation back to a topic of near-normalcy.

"Yeah, she's a nurse at Mercy Hospital downtown. I haven't spoken with her in a while, but she's the kind that worries and bitches at you when you don't call," he responded sheepishly.

"Ah, she sounds like she cares about you very much. Unfortunately, Zuko's sister isn't one much for caring about others. She's more the—" the yakuza boss paused, looking for a descriptor that would describe her appropriately without being too disparaging towards his niece. He was a polite old man after all.

"She's more the point-a-gun-in-your-face-and-fire-point-blank-type is what Uncle's trying to say. Anyway, she's a threat and we'll be on high alert. So keep your eyes open," Zuko finished for him.

"Yes, please watch for anything unusual when you go about your rounds. We have no reason to suspect that Azula's…business has anything to do with us, but we have to be careful. This goes no farther than this room, though. There's no sense in alerting people to a danger that might not even exist and we're not sure who would have hired her anyway. No sense in letting her possible employer know we're aware of her presence in L.A."

"Okay, if you say so, Oyabun. Anything else?" Sokka asked earnestly.

"Also, I need to introduce you to someone," the old man replied. "Suki?"

At his command, a tall young woman with short brown hair wearing skintight dark green leather entered the office from a hidden alcove. The woman's two-piece outfit, which really left nothing to the imagination, covered Suki from her collarbone down to her black leather boots. A lone black stripe ran along each side of the suit, trailing down her arms and down the outer seam of her pants.

"Yes, Mr. Sozin," she replied as she walked up to the three men. She stopped when she reached them and stood up straight, her hands clasped behind her back with military precision, her feet shoulders' width apart.

"Zuko, Sokka, I'd like you to meet Suki, the head of my personal security team. Suki, I believe you're familiar with both Zuko and Sokka."

The young woman extended her hand in greeting. Zuko took it, bowing his head in recognition of her important position. "Nice to finally meet you without your make-up, Suki," the scarred man stated.

"The make-up and our geisha disguises serve a purpose, you know," she responded warmly.

"Uncle explained. Thank you for your continued service to the White Lotus Society," Zuko said while bowing low in gratitude.

"We serve your uncle at Jun's request – we work for no man," Suki replied, her voice slightly colder.

"Wait, you're Suki – where have I heard that name before?" Sokka wondered out loud as he stood off to the side, interrupting Zuko's response.

"Ah, Sokka, you might remember Miss Suki from the other night—she was one of the geishas who served as guarantor at your induction ceremony," Iroh interjected with a slight chuckle. "Suki and the other so-called geishas serve as my personal security team. They only wear those outfits so as to keep their identities and their roles secret."

"Oh, well that makes sense," the blue-eyed man said with a nod of understanding. If anyone understood the importance of keeping secrets, Sokka sure as hell did. Sticking his hand out, he introduced himself with an earnest smile. "Nice to meet you, Suki. Oh, and thanks for your help with the ceremony—couldn't have done it without you!"

Chuckling at his endearing greeting, Suki shook his hand. "You're welcome, Sokka, and nice to meet you, too."

"Wow, you've got an iron grip for a woman! But I guess that makes sense if you're supposed to protect Oyabun, though, right?" Sokka exclaimed, shaking his hand in the air in surprise.

"Right," the young woman replied, her cheeks pinking at the unexpected compliment.

Breaking the short silence, Iroh started, "Right, well, Suki and the other Kyushu guards will be with me at all times, while you two try to figure out what Azula's up to, okay?"

"Sounds good, Uncle. Anything else?" Zuko asked, desperate to get started on figuring out his sister's motives.

"No, that's all for now. Get to work and we'll talk about his later. Zuko, did your sister mention when she was coming to town?"

"No, Uncle, she didn't. But I'd just assume that she's already here," the amber-eyed man replied.

"Very well, then," he said, waving off the two young men. Turning to the young woman, "That'll be all for now, Suki. Let's discuss this in greater detail over lunch later."

"Yes, Mr. Sozin. See you then," the young woman said as she quietly left his office.

Now alone, the old man once again returned his gaze to the city expanse behind him. He stroked his beard as he considered the possibility of his lethal niece watching him. He smiled as he silently welcomed her attempts.

* * *

She watched him through a pair of binoculars as she stood in a building a block or so away. It was simply amazing what one could see with strong enough magnification.

"And so it begins, Zuzu. Too bad you're not the one I'm after, dear uncle," she said with a deadly smirk. "It would have been entirely too easy anyways." At that moment, her cell phone rang.

"Hello," she answered impatiently. It was the call she had been expecting all morning.

A gruff male voice answered her, "Have you started your recon work? Seen his schedule? His protection?"

"No, not, yet. But I will soon. There's just the little issue of payment. You'll deposit half upfront in my Swiss account, then deposit the remainder after the job's complete. Understood?"

"Of course," the gruff voice responded smoothly. "It'll be taken care of this morning. See to it that you take care of your end of the bargain."

"Are you questioning my ability to get this job done? Because I believe you would be hard-pressed to find anyone that could take care of this as easily as I could. So don't press your luck." She promptly pulled the phone from her ear and ended the call. As far as Azula was concerned, she wouldn't be lifting a finger until that money showed up in her account.

* * *

As Zuko and Sokka drove over to Madame Wu's massage parlor to discuss some business, Zuko's eyes stared over the car-filled, asphalt-lined highway before them. His gaze wandered towards the shimmering reflection from the sun upon the road miles ahead of them. As he often did in these moments of reflection, the Japanese man dug into his breast pocket to grab his cigarette case. As he sought the cool metal case, his fingers brushed against a thick piece of paper lining the pocket. Momentarily confused by the sensation, he pulled the cardstock out. Looking down at it, he realized he was holding the business card that Sokka's sister had handed him a few nights ago. In his haste to get ready that morning, he had simply grabbed the first jacket he could get his hands on. Of course, he had forgotten about the young woman's request.

He glanced over the front of it—Mercy Hospital, it read, listing a phone number for the nurse's station. He flipped it over in his hand, reading "Katara" along the backside, accompanied by what he assumed was her phone number.

For a moment, that familiar twinge of jealousy sprung up in his stomach. While Sokka had admitted he hadn't spoken with his sister in some time, it was obvious that he missed her. And it was apparent that Katara missed her older brother. Of course, he'd never admit to anyone—least of all Sokka—but he envied the man. Saying so out loud, would be like admitting weakness.

And if there was something Zuko never did, it was admit weakness. Sozins weren't weak…

"Kind of funny that we're both estranged from our sisters, isn't it, Zuko?" Sokka asked, interrupting Zuko's thoughts.

"What do you mean 'funny,' Sokka? There's nothing mildly entertaining about my sister," Zuko responded already impatient with Sokka's small talk. He quickly stuffed the business card back into his pocket and grabbed his cigarette case and lighter. He deftly opened the case, released a cigarette from it, lit it, and gratefully inhaled its smoke.

"I'm just saying, it's a little ironic, you know? We're partners, your uncle's our oyabun, we both have sisters…"

"Yes, and that's where our similarities end."

"So, I'm guessing you never miss your sister, huh?"

"Do you think there's a reason to miss one of the deadliest women in the world, who happens to be my sister – someone who's been my constant competition since she was born?"

"Uh, I guess not," Sokka said as he squirmed slightly in his seat, eyes still glued to the road. "Maybe Katara isn't as bad as I thought she was…"

"No, your sister's practically Mother Theresa compared to my sister," the scarred man replied. Taking another inhale of his cigarette, Zuko couldn't stop the words that came out of his mouth – he'd been wondering about Sokka's relationship with his sister since that night at the hospital. "And while we're on the subject, how come you're always complaining about her? But then you whine about missing her… What's up with that?" he asked point-blank.

"Look, my sister's a pain in the ass sometimes—you saw how she laid into me at the hospital—but, well, she's my baby sister. She's practically the only family I have left. And, well, if she found out what I did for a living, I don't think she'd be too happy about it, you know? And, I don't want her to get involved in our…work. I could never forgive myself if she got hurt because of me…" Sokka trailed off as he wound his way through the stop-and-go traffic.

Protecting someone—because you loved them—that was something Zuko could understand; it was something he could relate to. He'd never forgiven himself for being unable to protect his mother. Hell, he had left the damn country in an attempt to forget his failure. He took another long inhale of the spiced cigarette.

"There's no shame in wanting to protect the ones you love, Sokka," he replied quietly as he stared out the opened window.

"Yeah, guess you're right, Zuko." Abruptly changing the subject as he realized he couldn't remember what exit to take, he turned to his passenger, "What's the exit for Madame Wu's again, Zuko?"

Flicking his cigarette out the window, Zuko rubbed his left temple with his hand as his right grabbed for the map in the glove compartment. Obviously, their conversation about protecting family was over for the time being.

* * *

**Author's Note**:

On Suki and the Kyushu warriors (as opposed to Kyoshi): I have Suki and her gals hailing from Kyushu Island, the southernmost island of the Japanese archipelago, as Kyoshi isn't a real place in Japan and I'm trying to base this story in reality. Of course, there was no way I was keeping Suki as a simple geisha—that would be pretty insulting to her character, wouldn't it?

And thanks to everyone for your patience, as well reading and reviewing – I do read your reviews and appreciate them, but I don't really have any time right now to respond. Maybe after I get through finals and before summer school starts? Also, big thanks to Moor for being the best beta reader a gal could ask for!


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